


Wittenburg

by katie_delaney



Category: The Libertines
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:07:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 32,010
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3950005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katie_delaney/pseuds/katie_delaney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>School boy fic, Peter is a a grade teachers pet, until rebel of the school Carl Barat decides he needs his help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 Pete sits hurriedly scribbling down the rest of the notes of the board; he'd been day dreaming, again, and he's sure this is actually quite important stuff. He hears the rest of the class moving past him, heading for the door, including the teacher. He quickly scribbles the last line as he hears the door slam shut and the room fall silent. He stands up, hurriedly pushing his books into his bag and turns round. He jumps as he realises the room isn't as empty as he thought it was and freezes. He knows the boy, well knows of him in any case, that's leaning back against the door, blocking his exit. Famous for his fights and his drugs and generally breaking every rule he could find as he made his way through school. Pete was genuinely baffled about what he could possibly want.

 “Peter Doherty...” he says thoughtfully, looking across at him. His face is completely blank, considering. He's standing there casually, radiating cool as usual, Pete thinks he doesn't actually do anything else. Whenever he sees him he's always leaning against something, pouting, smoking, glaring, generally acting like he's fucking James Dean or something. Always in that bloody leather jacket. If Pete had the nerve he'd ask him if he actually owned any other clothes.

 Pete's had a ridiculous crush on him since he was about 13, and now they're 18 years old and in their final year, and looking at him still makes him feel like he's going to melt down the wall. It's those eyes, he's convinced himself of it, such a piercing blue he felt like they could see right through him.

 Pete thinks he should probably say something and stop looking gormless.

 “Yeah...?” is about all he can come up with.

Carl smirks at him and Pete thinks he might die. It's ridiculous, he is not a bloody girl, he does not swoon, he does not go weak at the knees...he finds himself stepping back slightly as Carl walks over to him.

 “You're meant to be a boy wonder aren't you?”

 Pete continues to look baffled.

 “At school, you're like a boy genius, yeah?”

 “Oh, yeah, I guess...” he shrugs.

 Carl smiles and comes to sit on the desk opposite him. Pete's having trouble thinking with him in this close proximity.

 “In that case I have a favour to ask...”

 “Oh?”

 “I need to pass English, to get into uni, but right now I'm not at all passing English.”

 Pete nods, not sure how this involves him in any way.

 “So, I need you to help me pass.”

 “How am I going to help you pass?” Pete frowns.

 “You're going to write my coursework for me.”

 Pete raises his eyebrows. “What?”

 “See, I thought you'd object, which was why I thought we could make some sort of a deal.”

 “Right...” Pete says, wondering what on earth Carl could offer him that he doesn't already have. He's from a wealthy family, Carl isn't. He's not sure why Carl is doing this, why he doesn't just threaten to beat the crap out of him unless he complies. “What exactly were you thinking?”

 Carl looks up at him in response, those eyes boring straight into his own, Pete thinks he might fall over.

 “Is there anything you want?”

 Pete thinks he might be imagining it but suddenly he is very terrifyingly sure that Carl knows that he fancies him. Just something about the smirk that's playing on his lips, even more confident and full of swagger than he is usually.

 “Um...”

 “Cos here's what I was thinking...” he stands up and walks over to him, inches away from him, leans up to whisper in his ear, “how about...I fuck you, and you do my coursework?”

 Pete stares at him for a second, sure he can't have heard him right.

 “Don't play innocent Doherty, I've seen you looking...”

 Pete feels his face flushing; the idea that he's known all along is intolerable. He feels Carl's hands on his back, pulling him in closer.

 “You've got something I want, I've got something you want...”

 Pete thinks he might have died and gone to heaven. Carl nips at his neck slightly and Pete can't suppress the shiver that goes through him. Carl grins at him. Pete doesn't know how he's dealing with having him so close, he can smell the leather off his coat, the smoke on his breath, can feel hands tightening their grip on his arse and he leans up and kisses him.

 Pete sighs at the feel of his lips on his own, soft, but harder than any of the girls that he's kissed. Far more domineering, far more in control. He can't breathe, he can't believe this is happening...he

 kisses him back tentatively, letting Carl coax his mouth open. He can taste cigarettes on his tongue; before now he's despised smoking, he thinks he's about to swiftly change his mind. He melts as Carl pulls their hips together, it makes him cringe that Carl can feel how ridiculously hard for him he is already. Carl pulls back slightly and smirks, tracing his fingers over his erection through his grey trousers.

 “Poor thing...”

 Pete nearly hits the ceiling. He tries to stay calm, to not throw Carl against the nearest wall and beg him to come to bed with him or anything equally embarrassing.

 “Poor boy, all shy and alone, desperate for my cock...” he bites down on Pete's neck as he squeezes his hand tighter. Pete bites his tongue to stop himself moaning.

 “What do you say, Peter? I'll kiss you now, I'll touch you, I'll taste you...” he flicks his tongue out at his neck pointedly, “however much you want, and then, when you give me my coursework, and it gets me an A...you can have this...” he take Pete's hand and puts it in between his legs.

 Pete's eyes fly open in shock that he'd let him touch him like that.

 “Go on...” Carl smiles as Pete starts to move his hand nervously, “you can touch me all you like. In fact it's actively encouraged...” He takes Pete's hand, moves it in slow circles under his own over his stomach and down into his dark curls. Pete rests his head on Carl's shoulder as Carl guides his hand, letting him know exactly what he likes. Pete doesn't care what circumstances it's under, the fact that he's got Carl's hard throbbing cock in his hand is still making his mind spin. He can hear Carl’s breathing quicken in his ear as he lets go of Pete's hand, moving his own to the button of Pete's trousers.

 Pete feels himself tense slightly in anticipation.

 “Relax,” Carl breathes in his ear. He gasps as he feels Carl hand wrap round his cock.

 “Oh...” he sighs, resting his head on Carl's shoulder, absent-mindedly still moving his hand. Carl's strokes are rough and hard, completely unforgiving of Pete's whimpers. If Pete didn't know better he'd almost think he was punishing him for something; his hands are so much bigger, firmer, than any he's felt before.

 “Do you like that, Doherty? Do you like me being rough with you?” His voice is low, husky.

 Pete moans at Carl's words in his ear, his nails running down his back, teeth biting down on his shoulder. Carl laughs slightly and moves his hand faster, pushing both their trousers down with his other hand. He strokes their cocks together, wrapping his hands round Peter's moving them in sync.

 He rests his forehead against Pete's as he moves his hands faster; for a second Pete's terrified. The cascade of feelings this is sending through him, combined with the challenging gaze those blue eyes are giving his are enough to make him very wary indeed.

 He groans as he feels Carl move their hands faster, can feel his breath catching in his throat. He watches Carl's eye lashes flutter slightly, watches a smiles work its way across his face...he lets his head rest more heavily on Pete's, gasping.

 “Oh god I'm gonna come...” he gasps, it's enough to send Pete's orgasm washing over him. Pete moans, Carl growls in his ear when he comes, teeth biting down again on Pete's neck, making him shiver.

 They gasp their breath back and Carl looks up at him, smirking.

 “Did you enjoy that?”

 “Yeah...” Pete replied, wondering if he could possibly be thinking otherwise.

 “Good,” Carl says, grinning at him, “deal then?”

 Pete just find himself nodding dumbly, wondering what the hell he's getting himself into this time.

 “Excellent.” Carl grabs the box of tissues off the teacher’s desk and gives Peter a handful.

 Pete has absolutely no idea what to say. Carl seems all too aware of Pete's state as he pulls Pete's trousers up for him, untucks his shirt and corrects his scarf.

 “There,” he says, smiling at him, “I think you'll pass as not just having been tossed off in a class room. Right then.”

 Pete watches, still dazed as Carl sits back on the desk as if nothing’s happened, pulling out his phone casually.

 “Number?”

 Pete tells him.

 “Cool, right...” he pulls a few scrappy looking bits of paper and hands them to him, “now you can't actually write my coursework for me, it'll be too obvious. So I figure, have a look at this, I'll come by your house and you can tell me how to rewrite it, watch me and make sure I'm doing it right and then...” He grins at him.

 Pete nearly tells Carl that honestly, he'd probably help him anyway, but he thinks this might not be the wisest of ideas for him. He just nods.

 “Okay.”

 Carl grins. “Good. Now, come on, you look like you’re in serious need of a cigarette.” He grabs his hand and pulls him out the classroom, leading him down towards the sheds.

 “I don't smoke...” Pete just about manages to tell him.   
 “Fresh air then,” Carl says, there's about six boys behind the sheds, all of whom Pete knows of, but has never said a word to in his life. They all raise their eyebrows as to why he's got one of the school geeks in toe.

 “Pete's helping me with something,” he explains. They all flick their eyes over him but don't seem particularly bothered, apparently Carl's word is worth enough. Carl lights up and passes it to Peter, Pete can feel them all watching him, he knows he doesn't really have a choice. He takes it, wills himself not to cough and takes a drag.

 “You're not inhaling,” Carl says, laughing at him slightly. “Take a mouth full, then suck it in.”

 Pete tries it, he doesn't cough, but feels his lungs tighten slightly.

 “There you go.” Carl smiles, pulling another one out and lighting it for himself. Pete vaguely follows the conversation the boys are having, not that it's really much of one. He can feel himself going slightly dizzy. Carl's watching him.

 “Nicotine rush?”

 “Think so...” Pete replies, blinking.

 “I miss those,” one of the other boys sighs. Pete finishes it, copies Carl and throws it down onto the floor, crushing it with his heel.

 “I'll see you tonight then, yeah?” Carl asks him.

 “Yeah.” Pete nods, causing more quirked eyebrows from his friends. He doesn't care though, he needs to get out of there, away from that beautiful boy, the smoke filling his lungs and the sceptical faces of Carl friends.

*

 Pete corners his mother as soon as he gets home from school, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible. She's sitting on the sofa knitting, half watching the news and drinking a cup of tea. His dad is away, per usual.

 “Hello, dear,” she says, smiling at him as he walks in.

 “Hi,” he replies, coming to sit down on the sofa next to her, kicking off his shoes and dumping his school bag on the floor.

 “Did you have a nice day at school?”

 “Yeah, um, mum, we've been set this English project to do, and we've been paired up to do it, so this boy's coming over later so we can work on it.”

 “Oh that sounds lovely, what's it on?”

 “Hamlet,” Pete says immediately, not entirely sure why.

 “Oh I love Hamlet,” she sighs, “I do wish I was a student again some times. Do you want me to set up the office for you? Or you could go in the dining room, there's a big table in there?”

 “No it's okay my room will be fine, all my school work’s in there any way, it'll be a hassle moving it,” he adds as his mother looks slightly puzzled.

 “Oh yes of course, I didn't think about that,” she says, smiling. “Will he be wanting dinner?”

 “No I think he said he's coming over about 7.”

 “Okay,” she smiles, happily carrying on with her knitting.

 Pete breathes a sigh of relief.

                                                                                    *

 He doesn't think he's ever really looked round his room properly until today. Suddenly he's very conscious of his posters, his duvet cover, his wardrobe. He doesn't know why, as Carl's probably a very untidy person, but the first thing he does is make sure it's immaculately clean. Then he smoothes out his duvet cover, takes a second glance at the posters round his room and forces himself to sit down. He's being ridiculous. He jumps back up as he hears a knock at the door.

 “Peter...” he hears his mum's sing song voice drift up the stairs, “your friend’s here...”

 He hopes to god Carl didn't hear that. He walks down the hall way and opens the door, the second he does he realises he's made an obvious mistake: he's forgotten to get changed out of his school uniform. Carl's standing there in tight jeans, leather jacket done up, scarf round his neck and trainers on and he's standing opposite him in his school uniform, with his slippers on. Oh god, why is he wearing slippers?

 “Hey,” Carl says when Pete fails to say anything.   
 “Hi,” Pete says quickly, realising he's just standing there staring. He steps back and holds the door open for him. They've not got as far as the stairs when Pete's mum swoops on them.

 “Hello dear, I'm Pete's mother it's lovely to meet you,” she offers her hand to him.

 Pete thinks he's going to die, but Carl just throws her a charming smile and shakes her hand. 

 “Nice to meet you, Mrs Doherty, my name’s Carl.”

 Pete tries not to act surprised.

 “Peter tells me you're working on an English project together?”

 Carl doesn't even blink. “Yeah that's right, I'm lucky, I got paired with the smartest boy in the class.”

 His mother looks like she's going to explode with pride and puts her hand on Pete's shoulder absent-mindedly. Pete tries not to cringe.

 “Yes, well, he does work awfully hard,” she says. “Is there anything I can get you two, we've got a lovely bottle of white in the fridge...”

 Pete sees Carl's eyes light up and suppresses a laugh. He's been brought up on expensive wine since he was about 12, they tend to drink it like fruit juice in their family.   
 “Yeah, that'd be nice,” Pete says.

 She nods and goes to the kitchen. Carl raises his eyebrows at him, Pete just shrugs and smiles slightly.

 She comes back with a silver tray with a bottle of wine, two glasses and two cupcakes on it.

 “I was baking earlier, I'm sure you boys will enjoy them and save them from my waist line,” she says, handing the tray to Peter.

 “Thanks, mum.”

 “Thanks, Mrs Doherty,” Carl says nodding to her.

 “Call me Anne, please.” She smiles, touching his arm. Carl smiles back at her and nods, following Pete up the stairs. Pete can see him staring at the size of his house, the height of the ceilings, the paintings on the walls. He opens the door to his room with one hand, trying desperately not to spill the wine everywhere.

 Carl's eyes are flicking everywhere, the huge wardrobe, the two bay windows, the king sized bed and the other door that he assumes leads to an en-suite.

 “If everyone knew you were this rich, Doherty, you'd have a hell of a lot of friends...” he muses.

 Pete shrugs.

 “It's not really a good way of making friends.”

 He's brought another chair for Carl to sit on along with his leather office chair but Carl just goes straight for his bed, kicking off his converse and lying back on his expensive sheets. Pete looks down shyly, busying himself pouring the wine out. He takes Carl's glass over to him and sits down awkwardly on the bed next to Carl's feet.

 “Cheers,” Carl says, smiling and holding his glass up to Peter's.

 “Cheers,” Pete says, clinking their glasses together. How anyone can make him feel so uncomfortable in his own room he's got no idea. He's still trying to get over the fact that this boy he's been crushing on for however long is lying on his bed, quite casually, legs crossed, sipping a glass of wine.

 “Mmm, this is really good.”

 “Yeah, it's my mum's favourite, she gets it brought over from France.”

 “My mum would kill me if she thought I was drinking in the house.”

 Pete laughs, “My family don't really see wine as alcohol, spirits would be a different matter.”

 “I think we occupy different worlds.”

 “I was thinking something similar.”

 Pete's quite impressed that he's actually managing to have a conversation with him, and is actually making some sort of sense. Especially considering that he's in his own clothes, lying stretched out on his bed, one hand behind his head, one holding his wine casually, revealing a tiny strip of pale skin above his jeans.

 “Why are you still in your school clothes?” Carl asks, frowning at him.

 Pete just shrugs. “Dunno, hadn't got changed yet.”

 “Well don't mind me...” Carl says, smiling, sipping his drink and pretending to look at the ceiling. Pete raises his eyebrows at what he's implying. But now he's said it he doesn't think he can do anything else.

 “So, I had a chance to look over your course work draft...” Pete tries to make conversation as he takes off his shirt, like Carl isn't blatantly checking him out as he does.

 “What did you think?”

 “I think you need my help.”

 “I think you'd say that anyway.”

 Pete shoots him an innocent look but then smiles slightly as he hangs up his shirt. Carl's stopped drinking his wine, apparently distracted.

 “No, really, it's shit.”

 Carl opens his mouth in mock offence, but he stops Pete as he goes to put on a t-shirt, gesturing for him to take his trousers off first. Pete sighs, trying desperately to keep a level head; he has no idea why Carl has apparently decided he wants to see him naked. As far as he was aware this was a one way thing, he doesn't understand what Carl could possibly be getting out of this, except maybe humiliating him for his shamefully skinny frame. He takes them off though, feeling like he doesn't have any choice in the matter.

 Carl stands up, puts his wine on the bed side table and walks over to him, standing behind him. Pete can feel his heart racing, desperate for him already and wondering why when they've already...been together today. He jumps as he feels Carl's cool hand on his stomach.

 “Close your eyes,” he whispers in his ear. Pete does immediately. He's not even sure why this is happening this way round, Carl wants something from Pete, and yes maybe the other way round, but Carl's almost acting as if he's the one that's allowed to do whatever he want to him. Like he's somehow consented to being his play thing. Not that he imagines that would be so bad.

 He feels Carl pull him back up against him, can feel him hard against him through his jeans, pressing into his bare leg. He starts kissing his shoulders, his neck. Pete melts back against him, feels the zip of his leather jacket catch on his shoulder slightly, can feel Carl's hair tickling the back of his neck.

 “You want me to take you, Peter, don't you?” He slips his hand into his boxers and Pete moans, trying to purse his lips, bite his tongue, anything to stop his mother hearing. It's not helping that now Carl's apparently decided to start using his first name.

“Don't act coy, Peter...” He starts pulling on his cock roughly, biting down on his shoulder. “I know how you want this, you want it rough and hard, you want the whole street to be able to hear you screaming...” he whispered, flicking his tongue out at his ear. Pete groans quietly, he's sure this boy is set on torturing him.

 “Answer me, Doherty,” he growls at him, rolling his hips into Pete's arse, letting his cock brush in

 between his legs. 

 “God, you're cruel...”   
 Carl pulls harder on his cock, digs his nails into his hip, bites down on his shoulder. It's almost too much, so soon, Pete struggles to hold himself back.

 “Don't you dare,” Carl hisses in his ear, “don't you dare come until I tell you to, apologise...”

 “Sorry...” Pete says, having absolutely no idea what he's apologising for.

 “Not good enough,” Carl tells him, slapping his hand down his thigh. Pete's eyes roll back into his head, he's pretty sure Carl is the only thing keeping him upright right now.

 “Did you like that?” Carl purrs in his ear, tone changed completely. Pete can't reply, partly because of embarrassment, partly because he's not sure he's capable of speech with what he's doing to him right now. He feels Carl's hand come down on his leg again.

 “Tell me, Doherty...”

 “Yes...”

 “Yes, what?”

 “Yes, it feels good?” Pete tries, wondering how on earth Carl's thinks he's supposed to be able to realise what he's getting at in this state.

 “I guess that'll do, honestly Peter I'd expected better from you....Mr eloquent English boy...” Carl's started rolling his hips against Pete's.

 “Do you want this, Peter?” Carl asks him again, running his cock up Pete's arse with his spare hand.

 Pete whimpers as the contact. “God yes...”

 “Well I'm sorry Peter, but that's just not allowed...” he purrs in his ear, “oh but God I want it...”

 Carl moans deliberately in his ear, in the most wanton voice Pete thinks he's ever heard. “Pete, I wanna be inside you so bad...”

 Pete whimpers. He feels Carl pulls down his boxers, place his cock on his arse. Pete can feel it slick against him, he must have used something.

 “Peter please...Peter...” he whines in his ear, Pete can't help it, he pushes his arse back, desperately, he knows he's not prepared him, but god he doesn't care. Carl grabs his hips at the last minute.

 “I said no, Peter,” he says curtly, “turn round.”

 Pete reluctantly does. Carl pushes down on his shoulders, Pete drops to his knees compliantly.

 “Good boy, aren't you....” Carl looks down at him, contemplating, brushing a stray hair from Pete's eyes.

 He's desperate to take him in his mouth, but he feels like he should wait for permission. Carl grabs the back of his head by his hair, pushes him forward. Peter doesn't need telling twice, he flicks his tongue out before sliding his mouth down his cock. It feels amazing, Carl keeps his hand tight in Pete's hair, moving him at his desired pace. Pete looks up at him, he's not saying a thing but his eyes are closed, his legs beginning to shake a little. He pushes harder into his mouth, Pete tries not to gag, tries to take him back into his throat.  
 Carl lets out a small moan at that, Pete desperately wants to touch him, wants to slip his fingers inside him, but he has a feeling that that's very much not allowed.

 “Do you want to fuck me, Doherty? Is that what you're thinking?”

 Pete shakes his head, as much as he can in Carl's grip.

 “Don't lie to me,” he hisses, thrusting ruthlessly into Pete's mouth. Pete takes it, he doesn't care if he suffocates, chokes, it will have been for a much more worthy cause. “You're a slag, Peter, only slags get off on people treating them like this. And I do not let slags fuck me. Do you know why?”

 Pete raises his eyes up to see Carl's answer.

 “Because you're farrrrr too dirrty...” it rolls off his tongue and Pete sees a massive grin spread across his face and he laughs slightly, completely breaking the facade, “fuck yessss...” he hisses as comes in Pete's mouth, holding his head there, making him swallow. Not that Pete would have dared do otherwise. He takes a few seconds to regain his composure before he joins Pete on the floor, pushing him onto his back, crawling on top of him. Pete whimpers at the sensation of Carl's body on top of him, wishes he'd take his t shirt off so he could feel his skin.

 “Oh so hard for me aren't you, Doherty?” Carl's hand wraps back round his cock, Pete moans. “So desperate...” he slides down him abruptly, and Pete has to bite down on his fist to stop himself nearly crying out as Carl starts to suck him off, just an inch and then another...teasingly edging his way all the way down.   
 Pete never imagined anything in the world could feel like this. But Carl's moving so fast, too fast, and it's going to be over all too quickly...Carl slows, Pete gasps as he pushes a finger inside him lightly, he'd take it for gentleness if he didn't know Carl had realised some time ago just how rough he wanted it. He's bucking against his hand now, desperate for more, he slides in another finger, then another...Pete bites down on his hand as he feels Carl's fingers ghosting over his prostate.

 “Please...” he can't stand this much longer, he knows Carl knows what he wants. He's sure he feels Carl smile round his cock and then feels him slam his fingers back in to him, sending waves of pleasure and slight prickles of pain through him. Pete knows he shouldn't, knows Carl probably won't stand for it, but he puts his hand into Carl's gorgeous dark hair, making him move faster on his cock. To his surprise Carl complies completely, moving his hand faster, harder, until Pete comes hard, biting down on his hand, hips arching up, his whole body trembling.

 He gasps his breath back and opens his eyes, hoping to god he hasn't pissed Carl off. Carl's got a smug look on his face. He grins at him, pecks him on the lips and stands back up, pulling his jeans back on. Pete blinks, letting his head drop down onto the carpet, trying to find the energy to stand back up.

 “God,” Pete blinks.

 “Come on then, teach me Hamlet if I'm so terrible at it.”

 The speed he regains his composure at worries Pete slightly.

 “Erm...” Pete tries to think, just about managing to stand up, pulling his boxers on and the rest of the clothes he'd been planning on wearing. If he ever had some sort of plan of teaching him Hamlet, it's completely gone on out of his head now. He's too dazed to feel embarrassed so he grabs some of his books and paper and sits down next to Carl, spreading them out over the bed.

 Carl goes back to drinking his wine, leaning over to look at Pete's notes.

 “Sorry,” Pete mumbles, trying to organise his thoughts.

 “I'll take it is a compliment,” Carl says, smiling slyly at him. Focus Pete, focus. And now Carl's given him something near to what he wanted he finds himself actually being able to, he imagines this was probably Carl's plan all along. Maybe he does have some brains in there somewhere.

 “Right,” Pete says, his thoughts coming back into focus. “Okay, have you actually read the text?”

 Carl just laughs. “Like anyone actually reads that.”

 Pete sighs at him. “It really is a damn good job you're pretty...” He really didn't mean to say it, sometimes words just seemed to fall out his mouth without his consent.

 Carl raises his eyebrows. “Pretty, am I?”

 “Okay, Hamlet,” Pete says, swiftly changing the subject, “you need to read it.”

 “But it's boring...” Carl whines.

 “It's not boring!” Pete says, actually sounding genuinely appalled.

 “You're such a geek,” Carl sighs at him. Pete glares at him and folds his arms.

 “Do you even want my help?” Pete huffs.

 “Do you want my cock?”

 “Carl, shh!” Pete hits him on the arm, suddenly paranoid that his mother might be outside the door listening or something. “Okay, seriously, we need to read it.”

 “What, like read it out loud?”

 “Yeah, you like drama don't you, just imagine it's a script.”

 “That I can't understand...”

 “You'll get the hang of it. It's not like it's Chaucer or something...”

 Carl looks back at him blankly and Pete gives up.

 “Can I be Hamlet?” Carl asks eventually, flicking through the text.

 “What and I'm just going to be everyone else?”

 “You can just be the girls.”

 “And when the male characters are talking to each other?”

 “Well maybe I'll let you have a go, if you're a good boy...”

 Pete glares at him again, Carl gives him a charming smile and Pete can't help but smile back slightly.

 “Fine, whatever, let’s go.” He picks up the book, putting it between them.  “You have to go first.”

 “It's a ghost...”

 “A male ghost,” Pete points out.   
 “Oh...”

 Pete thinks it's going to be a long evening.

                                                                                    *

 Peter thinks it's incredibly unnerving the way Carl's affection for him seems to be something he can switch on and off. Earlier when he was kissing him, touching him, Pete truly believed he wanted him, was desperate for him, wanted to fuck him...and now he's sitting cross legged on his bed, wine glass in one hand, looking at the book, not making a single suggestive comment or affectionate gesture. He'd be quite happy if his mother walked in right now, because all she would see was two school friends studying English. He's sure that's not something you should be able to fake that easily. If he is faking…

 “Okay, we're half way through,” Pete says as they finally reach the middle of the play.

 “God, this is going to take a long time.”

 “It'll be easier when you actually know what's going on.”

 “I'm still not entirely sure what's going on.”

 Pete sighs, looking up at him.

 “You'll get it, trust me.”

 “Easy for you to say,” Carl huffs, drinking the last of their bottle of wine; they've had two glasses each. Pete notices it's given Carl slightly rosy cheeks. God, he wants to kiss him again.

 Carl gives him a smile.

 “You look like a puppy,” he tells him, flicking his eyes up and down him. “Begging for a treat...”

 Pete doesn't know quite how to react to that, it was hardly a compliment, and it worries him that he's apparently so transparent.

 “Sorry,” Pete finds himself apologising, he's not entirely sure why but it seems to be the only thing he can say. Carl just smiles and him and shuts the book, putting it on the dressing table. He lies on his side next to him, facing him.

 “When do you want to meet next then?”

 “Erm...” Pete tries to think, “whenever.” 

 “So eager to please...” he runs a finger across Peter's cheek. Pete feels his breath catching in his throat, “how about tomorrow?”

 “Yeah...” Pete says absent-mindedly, no idea what he's doing tomorrow. Probably nothing. Carl's still got his fingertips on his cheek.

 “Aren't you going to give me any homework?” he says, smirking at him.

 “Um...”

 “Come on, Doherty, there must be something I can do in the meantime...”

 “Um...okay...write a list of what happens in each scene, and then it'll be easier for you to find it later when you come to draft out your coursework.” Pete thanks whatever part of his brain that decided to come from.

 “That sounds thrilling,” Carl moves his hand up to Pete's hair, playing with it, messing it up. “You'd make a wonderful pet...” he says casually, then gives him a hard stare, “would you like that Peter?”

 Carl's hand is in his hair, the other on his belt, playing with it teasingly.

 “Yeah...” Pete sighs it out, not really sure exactly what he's agreeing to. All he knows is that he does not want this to stop, ever.

 Carl laughs at him and pushes him back slightly, standing up and pulling his shoes back on. Pete suppresses a groan and just watches Carl getting ready to leave, wrapping his scarf back round his neck.

 “I've got some home work for you too Peter,” he says, leaning down over the bed, giving him a chaste kiss on the lips.

 “What?” Pete frowns at him.

 “Grow a back bone,” Carl hisses in his ear, turns on his heels and is gone out the room before Pete can process what he said. All he knows is that it's made him sting, how dare he, really? It's not his fault he's horribly infatuated with him, how else is he supposed to act? He hears Carl's footsteps going down the stairs, hears him talking to his mother, their muffled words drifting up the stairs.

 “Are you going, dear?”

 “Yeah, I think we've covered everything we can tonight. Thank you for the cakes by the way, they were lovely.” Pete looks at the table; both of their cakes are still on the plate, untouched. What a smarmy twat.

 “Oh that's quite all right darling I'm glad you enjoyed them, I expect I'll be seeing you soon?”

 “I expect so,”

 “Are you walking home at this time? It's ever so dark, are you sure you don't want a lift?” Pete cringes at the sound of his mother’s anxious voice.

 “No don't worry, I'll be fine, I only live round the corner, thank you though.” Liar.

 “Oh that's all right, dear, take care won't you...”

 “I will, good night!”

 “Good night, dear.”

 He hears the door slam. Pete can feel his blood boiling, just cos he's not a lying, fake fucking poser like he is...he can hear him walking down the drive. How dare he say that to him, when he's helping him? So what if he's shagging him, the only reason he's doing it is cos he's so bloody thick, where does he get off telling him how to act? He stands up and looks out the window, he can see him quite clearly, stopping to light up on the drive. Pete looks at the cupcake and picks it up, opening the window and lobs it straight at Carl's head.

 Carl turns to look at him, hand on the back of his head, looking completely stunned. Pete knows he should shut the curtains and feign completely innocence but he can't seem to move, and he knows Carl can see him from where he's standing. Frozen in guilt.

 Carl throws his arms up at him, fag half lit in one hand, mouthing something that looks distinctly like “what the fuck”. Pete doesn't know how to respond. He knows he has a ridiculous temper, but it's been so long since anyone meant enough to annoy him so much that he'd forgotten quite how insane it could make him act.

 He bit his lip as he watched Carl pull out his phone. Soon enough his starts buzzing. He answers reluctantly but doesn't say anything. He's forgotten why he was mad at him before already.

 “Peter?!” Carl yells down the phone at him.

 “Mmm?” Pete just about manages to mumble.

 “What the fuck?”

 “Erm...”

 “Peter, you just threw a cupcake at my head.”

“Yeah...sorry...” Pete says, wondering what else he could possibly say.

 “Has anyone ever told you that you're seriously fucked in the head?”

 “Mmm...” Pete says, starting to remember their conversation, or rather, what Carl said to him “Well you did say...”

 “I told you to grow a back bone. I did not tell you to throw a cupcake at my head.”

 “Well maybe you should have been more specific...” Pete can't believe he just said that to him. He needs to cut out his tongue, or maybe just temporarily paralyse it. Carl is silent for a few seconds.

 “You know what, whatever, I am done with you, Doherty.”

 “Carl, no, please...” he starts, his heart sinking at the thought of not seeing him again. But then he realises he needs to change tact. Carl isn't in it for the sex, he doesn't give a crap about him, he's in it for the grades. He needs to use that. “You need me, come on, you know no one else could be bothered to help you pass.”

 “Please,” Carl scoffs, “I could get anyone to help me.”

 “But none of them are as clever as me are they?” Pete is desperate, it's the only way he'd ever talk to Carl like this, like he deserves more than a few seconds of his presence.

 “Hmm...” Carl is quiet for a few moments before he speaks again. “How badly do you want me to say yes, Peter?”

 Pete doesn't reply, he's starting to get very cautious of Carl's questions, of just answering without thinking, saying what he really thinks.

 “That's irrelevant, you need me Barat, admit it.”

 “You're very quick at doing your homework aren't you?”

 Pete just smiles, he guessed right at what Carl really wanted him to say.

 “Okay, here's what's going to happen, you're got p.e tomorrow with me haven't you?”  
 “Yeah...” Pete always thought it was one of life's small mercies that he got to see Carl in his gym kit every week, running around the football pitch...showing those gorgeous arms. Concentrate Peter.

 “Okay, wait for me after in the changing rooms. We can discuss our agreement. Okay?”

 “Yeah, okay,” Pete agrees.

 “Good.” He hangs up. Pete puts his phone back in his pocket, watches as Carl does the same before lighting up properly and walking off.

 Pete sighs, shutting the window and closing the curtains and Carl's rapidly disappearing silhouette.

He's starting to get a slight idea of what's going on. Carl's playing games, but apparently he doesn't want Peter to let him win them all. Pete imagines he'd be easy to outwit if he wasn't so gorgeous, he's obviously cleverer than him. He just needs to find a way of gathering all the attraction he feels towards him and put it in a box, talk to him like a normal person most of the time, and just release it when they're fucking...or whatever.

 Easier said than done though, he thinks. He yawns and gets into bed, only realising then how ridiculously hard he is. Again. Already. He rolls his eyes, bloody boy. He goes to reach down under the covers when his phone buzzes. He sighs and leans out of bed to the floor, fishing in his jeans pocket to get it. It's Carl. He picks it up, wondering what on earth he could possibly want.

 “Hello?”

 “Peter...” His voice is low, growly, exactly the same voice he was using on him before when he was...he screws up his eyes, thinking about that will not help his current state.

 “Yeah?” Pete tries to say casually.

 “Are you hard for me?”

 Pete knows he's supposed to be growing a back bone, but really, when he's talking to him like that he can't help but tell him the truth.

 “Yeah,” he says, his cheeks flushing, he is not used to talking about things like this on the phone.

 “How hard?”

 “Very,” Pete answers.

 “Don't you dare touch yourself...”

 “What?”

 “You heard me, Doherty. Don't you dare, wait till tomorrow.”

 “Why?”   
 “Cos I said so,” Carl's low voice is doing nothing to help the situation.

 “But...”

 “But nothing. You know I'll be able to tell if you have, and if you're not well and truly gagging for it by tomorrow I'm never going to touch you again.”

 Pete tries to reply but Carl hangs up. Pete groans and lets his head fall back on the pillow. He's now painfully hard, trying, desperately to think of a way around this. Maybe he's bluffing, like he was before, trying to get him to stand up to him...but...there was something in his voice that told Peter he really did not want to risk it.

 He grits his teeth and grabs a towel, crossing the landing to the shower.

 “Darling, you know there's no hot water don't you?” He hears his mum call to him.

 “Yeah, I know.”

 


	2. Chapter 2

 Pete thinks today may have been the first morning he's actually looked at himself properly in the mirror before going to school. He wished he hadn't, all he sees is a lanky teenager with pale skin and whose hair won't behave itself. He's about an inch from the mirror, inspecting his skin, when his mother walks into the hall.

 “Peter, what on earth are you doing?”

 “Nothing!” He jumps back guilty, trying to ignore the strange look she's giving him. She's leaning against the door frame, still in her dressing gown and a cup of coffee in her hand.

 “That boy was ever so nice that came round last night, you should invite him round again!”

 “He's not that nice,” Pete grumbles. “He's just a bit of a lady charmer.” He smirks lightly at his mother.

 “Honestly, Peter, that is not what I meant!” she said. Pete noticed her cheeks turned slightly pink as she turned, apparently remembering something very important that she had to do in the kitchen.

 Pete smirked slightly; he supposed it was a slight comfort that he wasn't the only one to fall so quickly under Carl's spell. He knew half the girls in the school spent most of their breaks swooning over him. He looked back in the mirror and sighed, wondering quite how many levels down in the scales of attractiveness he was from him. He gave up on the mirror and walked out the door. They had p.e first; he had to remember to keep a clear head. Though keeping a clear head when he'd barely been able to sleep due to a rather insistent...problem wasn't so easy. He was actually quite surprised he'd been able to resist at all, apparently the threat of Carl never looking at him twice again was enough to deter his teenage hands.

                                                                                    *

 He walks in the changing rooms with the rest of his class with butterflies in his stomach. He needs to calm down. Peter seeks out his usual space, slightly round the corner, slightly out of sight as he would really rather not expose his milky skin to the rest of his class. He's just put his blazer on the hook when he sees someone place theirs next to his. It's not that surprising; he's not the only teenage boy wishing for a bit of privacy in this place. His stomach does a somersault though as he looks and sees that no other than Carl has come and dumped his bag on the bench next to his.

 Carl doesn't say anything, just looks at him, his eyes sparkling, and starts to take off his clothes. Pete immediately looks away, tries to keep it that way. Carl is quickly followed by his entourage, apparently unconcerned that this space probably wasn't made for four people to get changed in. They're talking about football, Premier League, not the p.e lesson, something thankfully Pete can half follow. Pete tries to concentrate on the conversation as he takes his shirt off, trying not to notice  that fact that Carl's apparently decided to strip down to his boxers and stand debating Man City's latest tactics instead of putting his p.e kit on. Pete turns as he takes off his jeans, ridiculously hard, praying to god no one looks at him and notices.

 P.e shorts are unforgiving, though, and he kneels down over his bag, trying desperately to make it go away. He winces as Carl squats down beside him.

 “What you lost, Doherty?” He puts his face close to his, apparently helping him look in his bag. Pete tries to think of something he could have possibly lost that he isn't already wearing...

 “Phone...” he says.

 “Oh, I'll ring you...” Carl says innocently.  
 Pete can practically see his friends raising their eyebrows that they've apparently become close enough to exchange numbers.

 Pete feels it buzzing it in his pocket and cringes.

 “Oh,” he says, forcing a laugh, “that'd be why I couldn't find it then.”

 Carl just throws him a very dirty smirk before standing up, offering him his hand. Pete thanks god his erection seems to have got the hint and fucked off for the moment. Pete takes his hand and stands up, trying not to look at Carl's arms, or his eyes, or his smile...he settles for the floor.

 “Come on boys!” He hears the teacher’s voice booming through the changing rooms. Thankfully it's freezing outside; he thinks it's the first time he's ever felt grateful for English winters. Then he hears the very thing he was dreading…

 “Pair up!”

 Carl's hands clapped on his shoulder before he's had chance to try and think of a reason to say no.

 “Yeah, Doherty?” Carl says, like he's even got permission to say no. He's definitely getting weird looks off Carl's friends now and a distinctly jealous one off Carl's best mate Johnny. Pete wants to tell him that he can gladly take him back.

 “Yeah.” He nods, resigned to whatever torture this is going to entail.

 “Right, stretches!” the coach barks. It's never really occurred to Peter how gay helping someone stretch out their legs was before. As he feels Carl taking his leg, lifting it up and pushing it back for him, practically straddling his other leg he wonders how a class of “I'm not gay, you're gay, gay!” teenagers ever agreed to this.

 “You're so tense, Peter,” Carl says to him. Pete just glares up at him, he knew Carl was a bit of a twat, but he never realised he'd take such pleasure in winding him up. Sadistic prick.

 “Swap!” the coach barks.

 Carl obediently steps back, lying on his back submissively, like nothing would ever make him happier. Pete just takes a deep breath and lifts his leg up, pushing it back for him. His legs are freezing, he has to fight the urge to move his hands up and down, or maybe just up, under his boxers...

He blinks, Carl's smirking at him, probably knowing exactly what he was thinking. Pete looks down, avoiding his eyes, concentrating on a piece of grass by Carl's hip.

 “Doherty!” Pete looks up, wondering what the teacher is shouting at him for. He marches up to them. “You're doing it wrong, put your hand...”

 He grabs Pete's hand and moves it up Carl's thigh, takes his other hand and puts it on Carl's ankle.   “Okay, _now_ try it.”  Pete nearly over balances.

 “If you feel unsteady then just put your weight on his leg, I'm sure he take it, can't you Carl?”

 “Yes, sir,” Carl says obediently. Pete does so, wondering what on earth he did in a past life to deserve this.

 “And try again...”

 Pete does.   
 “That's better! Can you feel the difference?” he asks Carl.

 “Yes, it feels much better like that,” he says, his face completely blank. Pete thinks he might die.

 Eventually the coach tells them all to get up and start practising skills. He can just about manage football, but Carl's decided to try and take every possibility to tackle him straight on, bumping into him, falling on top of him several times.

 “Boys! Keep it clean, it's only skills, there's no need to get rough!”

 “Yeah, Doherty,” Carl says, smirking at him, “stop being so rough, I know you like it but...”

 Pete takes the ball off him, dribbles it round him and kicks it through their make shift goal. Carl looks at him in mock offence.

 “6 – 5.”

 “I didn't realise we were keeping score,” Carl says, raising his eyebrows at him. Pete can't think of anything to say to that, just chucks the ball back his chest, perhaps a little bit too hard. Carl grins at him, dropping it to his feet.

 Pete's not entirely sure what happens in the next half an hour, but he seems to have forgotten how pretty Carl is and has decided to focus on what a twat he is instead as they attempt to trounce each other at the games the coach has made for them. He knows people are watching them as it's rare that people play with this much enthusiasm at this time in the morning but he doesn't care. He's out of breath, sweaty and a glance up at Carl tells him he's feeling similar. But he knows he can't slow down, he is so close to beating him, so close to be able to show him he's not as great as he thinks he is. He steps on a piece of still frosty grass and falls flat on his face. The cold pain stinging in his cheeks brings him back to earth slightly. He feels Carl's hand on his back.

 “You all right?” He sounds genuine for a change.

 “Yeah,” he says, dragging himself back up onto his feet.

 “You okay, Doherty? World spinning? Bleeding to death?”

 “No, Sir,” Pete says, laughing slightly.

 “I imagine you'll be fine then. Back inside boys!”

 He feels himself start to shiver as they walk back inside. He goes and looks in the mirror and sees he's only bleeding slightly on his cheeks, but nothing too bad. The rest of him is covered in dirt and grazes. He walks back to his bags, takes off his kit quickly, wraps his towel round him and walks into a shower cubicle, locking it behind him. It only occurs to him when his washing his face that he has no idea where Carl's gone. He hears people gradually leaving the changing room, but he's got a free next so they've got plenty of time to talk. He decides he might as well get all the muck off him first.

 He's not even sure if he's stayed behind, the changing rooms sound silent. He jumps as he hears a knock on the door.

 “Peter...” His voice is barely above a whisper. Pete feels his voice catch in his throat; he opens the door.

 “Exactly how long were you planning on hogging that shower for?” Carl kicks off his shorts, already topless, and walks into Pete's cubicle, locking it behind them. Pete's ridiculously hard again, understandably he supposes, and he's sure Carl can't honestly expect him to wait much longer. Carl just pushes him out of the way of the water and starts casually washing his hair, like they shower together all the time, like he can't see how ridiculously hard Pete is for him.

 God he's beautiful. Pete watches him as he stands with his eyes closed and wet hair falling in his eyes,  he watches it drip onto his cheeks, down his chest, his perfectly flat stomach, in between his legs...Pete has to concentrate very hard on staying where his is.

 Especially when Carl moves his hand round his half hard cock and starts stroking himself, his eyes now open and locked on Pete's. He holds his other hand out to him. Pete takes it, entranced. He's gentle as he pulls him closer, kissing him softly. Pete knows by now that he's winding him up and doesn't mean it. Sure enough he pulls back, grabs Pete by his hair and pushes him down. Pete doesn't even think to object and kneels down on the cold, scratchy tiles. Carl stops him for a second, looking down at him, tracing his fingers over his lips.

 “My own little slut...”

 Pete doesn't have time to respond as Carl pushes his mouth open with his fingers, making Pete suck them before pushing his cock into his mouth. Pete nearly moans; it is ridiculous how much this is turning him on...Carl's not even touching him yet.

 “Mmm, I think those lips were made for my cock, Doherty...”

Pete doesn't tell him that he's always thought similar. But Carl stops him after a few minutes, pulls his cock out of his mouth, moves his head lower, in between his legs.

 “Go on Peter, I know you're gagging to taste me...”

 Pete has a feeling he's being tested, that if he doesn't do this Carl's just going to throw him to the curb. It doesn't bother him so much, more the fact that he's never done it before.

 “Doherty. Do it. I'm not going to ask you again.” His voice is hard, harsh, and Pete can't help but comply. He tilts his head and flicks out his tongue nervously.

 “Is that all you've got?”

 Pete tries to quell his nerves and licks out, harder, faster...how he imagines he'd like it. Carl gasps and stops him, and he suddenly worries he's done something wrong, but Carl just turns to face the wall, giving Pete better access.

 Pete takes a deep breath and moves his head forward again, trying to mimic what he was doing before.

 “Mmm how hard is this making you, Doherty?” Carl whispers to him. “Answer me...”

 “Very...” Pete has to admit it and carries on, pushing Carl's legs apart as the noises Carl's making above him drive him to distraction.

 “Oh, baby, don't tease me...do it properly...” he whines, faking as usual, but Pete takes the hint, slips his tongue inside him, starts fucking him with it, hard.

 “Oh fucking hell...” Carl swears. Pete feels his legs shake for a second and smiles slightly, thinking he's finally done something right. He's groaning above him, practically quivering under his hands.

 “More...” he just about makes out from in between the profuse swearing above him. Pete's not entirely sure what he means, but guesses and slips a finger inside him. 

“Oh...” Carl just gasps above him. Pete wishes he hadn't turned round, he wants to see his face, what he's doing to him...

 “There, there...” Carl gasps. Pete pushes his fingers back harder. Carl moans. Pete thinks he might have found a new favourite activity.

 “Harder...” Pete does as he's told, wrapping his other hand round Carl's cock at the same time. Carl gasps again, trembling against the wall as he comes in his hand, swearing. Pete sits back on his heels, listening to Carl gasping his breath, desperate to touch himself.

 All of a sudden Carl whips round to face him, pulls him up to stand in front of him.   
 “How dare you touch me like that, Peter? What the fuck gives you the right?” He's growling, pushing him back against the wall, hard. Pete whimpers. Carl grabs his wrist, brings it up to his mouth, makes Pete lick his hand clean.

 “You think you deserve to taste me?” Carl raises his eyebrows at him. Pete just winces, Carl's words doing nothing to relieve his now painfully hard erection.

 “Did you wait?” Carl asks him, ghosting his hand over his cock. Pete bites his lip.

 “Yeah.”

 “Don't lie to me, you're saying you didn't touch yourself at all last night? That you just lay there, thinking of me?” Carl wraps his hand round his throbbing cock. Pete gasps in relief.

 “I'm not lying...” Pete just about manages to say as Carl starts to pull hard on his cock. Carl leans up to whisper in his ear.

 “Well then you're just pathetic, aren't you?” He moves his hand faster. “But you're such a good boy...” he purrs in his ear then kisses him, hard, practically forcing his mouth open, nipping down on his lips, forcing his tongue inside. Pete nearly loses his balance. Carl laughs at him, spits on his fingers, pushes them inside him.

 Pete groans, lets his head fall onto Carl's shoulder.

 “Like that?”

 “Mmm...” Pete moans.

 “I suppose I should return the favour really...though you really don't deserve it...you know that don't you?”

 “Yes, Carl...” it rolls off his tongue far too easily.

 “Mmm, I guess it's a good job I'm nice then. Turn round.”

 Pete can't believe he's really going to do this, but turns as he's told and puts his hands on the wall.

 “I wonder if I could make you scream?” He hears Carl's voice behind him and squirms. He feels Carl's hands on his arse, feels his hot breath and then...

 “Oh god...” Pete gasps, pleasure shooting through him. Carl doesn't bother with the preliminaries, just pushes his tongue straight inside, starts fucking him with it, still pulling hard on his cock. He now realises how this made even Carl, who's always so composed, start shaking. He's whimpering, willing Carl to never stop doing this, ever. He pushes his tongue in further and Pete hears himself yelp slightly, thinking he probably should be putting up more of a fight to Carl's efforts to make him scream.

 “Please...” Pete moans, not entirely sure what he's begging for.

 Carl pushes his fingers inside; he's already apparently learnt exactly where he likes it.

 “God...Carl...” He's falling apart in his hands, he thinks Carl's going to need to scoop him up off the floor when he's done with him.

 “You taste so good...” Carl flicks his tongue in between his legs, catching sensitive skin. That's apparently enough to send him over the edge and he comes, his eyes rolling back, moaning what sounds suspiciously like Carl's name. He curses himself. He closes his eyes, tries to find a thought somewhere in his head. He hears Carl get up, pull him out the shower, over to their clothes, the last ones left in the changing rooms.

 Pete grabs his towel and wraps it round himself, shuddering slightly against the soft cotton. He finally looks up at Carl, who's already pulling his trousers on. He sighs and supposes he should do the same. He checks his watch; they've still got half an hour left of their free period. He finds himself once again having no idea what to say. He wants to tell Carl that's he's a beautiful, amazing sex god and wants him to never leave his life, ever. But he imagine Carl probably knows that anyway.

 Carl doesn't say anything either, doesn't even look up at him. Pete feels wary, the little self confidence he had disappearing at Carl's failure to even acknowledge him after. He does his tie back up, tucks in his shirt and puts on his blazer, sitting down next to Carl, who's already dressed, to do his shoes up. Peter's never sure how Carl manages to get away with swapping his blazer for a leather jacket, barely ever wearing a tie and never tucking his shirt in.

 “Come on then,” Carl says as he finishes tying his laces. Pete winces as he feels Carl's critical eyes on his attire. He stands opposite him for a minute, frowning, then un-tucks Pete's shirt, loosens his tie and undoes his top button. He raises his eyebrows, daring Pete to object. Pete doesn't, just looks down at the floor, embarrassed.

 Carl says nothing to him but wraps his arms round him, holding him tight. Pete feels his heart soar, feels Carl bury his head in his neck, his hair tickling his skin. It feels like forever that they stand there. Pete is awkward at first but eventually relaxes against him, resting his head on his shoulder.

 “You smell nice.”

 Pete frowns, wondering what on earth to say to that. “Erm...thanks?”

 Carl steps back, smirking at him. Pete wants to grab him back but doesn't think Carl would let him.

 “Where do you want to go then?” Carl asks. It takes Pete a minute to realise Carl's talking about what they actually came here to arrange.

 “Erm, don't know?”

 “I'm gasping for a fag, let’s go out the back.”

 Pete follows Carl round the back of the gym, down behind the trees...Pete wonders how many secret smokers hiding places there are in the school. This clearly isn't just Carl's, a multitude of different fag ends litter the floor.

 Carl lights up, passes it to Pete and he takes it,  not entirely sure why.

 “Okay, rules.” 

 Pete raises his eyebrows, thinking that it probably would have made more sense for Carl to do this at the start. He doesn’t say anything, just watches him inhale thoughtfully. Carl seems to lose his train of thought though, looking over the fences. Pete wishes he'd hurry up and finish his cigarette so they can go inside, he's freezing.

 “Rules?” he prompts him.

 “Right. Don't tell anyone, yeah?”

 “Yeah.” Pete think that one sort of went without saying. “And?”

 “And that's it.” Carl grins at him.

 Pete frowns.

 “You rely way too much on rules and order, Peter, let’s see how you do without them.”

 Pete just shrugs, not really sure how to respond. Carl throws his fag on the floor, not bothering to stamp it out.

 “Hit me.”

 “No,” Pete says, shaking his head, thinking Carl's watched fight club a few many times.

 “Have you ever been in a fight?”

 Pete just looks at him dryly. “You're no Brad Pitt.”

 “Seriously, come on.”

 “Why would I hit you?”

 “Because you need to grow a pair Peter...”

 “I have a perfectly good pair, thank you very much.” It reassures Pete that after their footballing scuffle he seems to be able to talk to him a bit easier.

 Carl gives him another of his filthy smirks and takes another deep drag of his next cigarette. Pete sighs. 

 “Besides, I'm the one meant to be teaching you English, I don't recall ever asking you to turn me into a twat.”

 Carl raises his eyebrows. “Do you think I'm a twat?”

 Pete doesn't quite know how to respond. He thinks he's funny, gorgeous, beautiful, a bit on the thick side and yes, maybe a bit of a twat. Pete's silence seems to be enough of an answer for Carl who glares at him.

 “You think you're sooo much better than me, don't you, Peter?” He backs Pete up against the wall, throwing his cigarette forgotten on the floor.  Pete wonders how he's got himself on Carl's bad side, again, when all he wanted to do was be kissing him some more.

 “No, I...”

 “Yes you do,” Carl growls at him, “you think you're better than me because you're smarter, more well behaved? You think I'm worthless because although I may be pretty, you think I'm dumb as fuck.”

 “I don't I...” Pete tries, but feels himself cringe with guilt that yes, that was exactly what he was thinking. Carl's got him pressed hard against the wall now, Pete tries to look past him, to try and ignore how much this is turning him on, he doubts it'd go down too well at this point in time.

 “Yes. Don't lie to me, Peter...” he growls in his ear, “but I've got news for you. In the real world no one gives a fuck what you got in school. In the real world you're just another idiot, swooning over the bad boy. You think you're so strong Peter...”   
 Pete gives him an odd look, strong is really not an adjective he'd used to describe himself. He's also slightly surprised that Carl thinks this much about...well...anything really which probably hammers home his point even more.

 “Not here, Peter,” Carl says, grabbing his skinny arms. “Here.” He taps Pete on the side of the head. “You think you're so fucking brilliant, so clever at everything, so fucking perfect but....” he reaches his hand in between his legs, tracing his fingers over his throbbing cock; Pete shivers. “So very, very weak, Peter...”

 “I'm not...”

 “Oh you are...you'd do anything for me, Peter,” he leaned closer to him, his breath hot on his ear. He slipped his hand inside his trousers, Pete rolled his eyes and leant back against the wall; how he could be so hard again after so little time baffled him. Everything about Carl baffled him.

 “Wouldn't you, Peter?” he growled slightly at him, undoing him completely.

 “Yes...” he sighed as he felt Carl's hand wrap round his cock.

 “You can think whatever you want about me, Peter,” he said, his tone dangerous, leaning back to look him in the eyes. Pete couldn't hold his gaze, couldn't face what he was making him realise. Carl grabbed his chin roughly, making him look up at him. “But do not think for one second that I'm stupid.”

 Pete shook his head silently, Carl's rough hand on his cock too much for him to form a sentence.

 “Because I think it's very clear...” Carl was whispering in his ear again, making Pete tremble underneath him. “Which one of us is the desperate whore in this agreement. It's not me, begging you for an English assignment. It's you, Peter, begging for my cock.” He practically spat it at him, sending Pete reeling. He came, shaking in his hand, clinging to his leather jacket for dear life.

 He closed his eyes for a second, trying to make sense of what Carl had been saying to him.

 “Whore...” Carl whispered in his ear, dragging his teeth down his neck.

 “I don't think you're stupid, Carl...” Despite the distraction Pete thought it was very important he get his point across. “I think you're amazing.”

 “You think I'm amazing in bed and very little else. Which pretty much means you think I'm a whore.”

 “Well you did sort of sell yourself to me for an English assignment...” It was out of his mouth before he'd realised that this was completely the wrong thing to say.

 “What did you just fucking say?” Carl's voice changed. Pete didn't think it was possible to piss him off any more than he already had. Apparently he was wrong.

 “I meant...”

 Carl pulled back slightly, raising his eyebrows at him.

“Go on, what did you mean, Peter?”

He took his hands from around his waist, placing them on his hips. Pete felt like running far, far away. But at the same time his mind wouldn't let go of the fact that there was some truth in it. 

 “I...” he started but stopped, realising that there was no way at all of saving this situation.

 Carl scowled at him.

 “Do I look like a slut to you?” He nearly shouted it at him. Pete shook his head violently.  “Where's your brains now, Doherty?”

 “I didn't mean it like that, I just meant...Carl, for god's sake I don't think you're a whore!” Pete had a very bad feeling Carl was about to storm off. He was beginning to realise what little relationship experience he had, especially not with someone apparently this volatile. When Carl had first approached him, he'd seemed playful, casual, nowhere near this intense. Not that it would have put him off of course.

 “Don't you dare raise your voice at me, Doherty,” Carl growled at him. Pete immediately closed his mouth. He didn't know what to say. They weren't in any kind of resemblance of a relationship so the usual peace offerings didn't work, Pete thought if he offered Carl his hand he'd probably get a smack in the face. 

 Carl was glowering at him, though he seemed to be contemplating something. Probably what to do with him. He knew he still needed him, Pete knew he still had that safety net. He had no idea how this had happened, they'd been doing this for what...less than a day? And already things were ridiculous. He frowned, Carl did seemed to have him very figured out for someone who apparently didn't even know he existed before. He narrowed his eyes, trying to put the pieces together.

 “What?” Carl asked him, seeing him frowning.

 “Nothing, I just...”

 “Whatever, Peter. Fuck you.” He turned to go.

 “Carl! Don't, Carl!” he ran after him, grabbing his arm.

 “Let me make this perfectly clear to you, Doherty, if it weren't for this stupid piece of work I would never even look twice at you. You're skinny, pale and pathetic and I think I've seen little girls with more charisma that you...”

 Pete feels winded, like Carl's punched him in the stomach. He knows that he's pale, skinny and pathetic but hearing it coming from Carl just makes it worse. He turns abruptly away from him, terrified that Carl's going to see his reaction. Carl grabs his arm, making him face him.

 “Aren't you forgetting something...”

 Pete frowns before he realises that Carl's got him off and he's done nothing in return. He goes to put his hands Carl's jeans and Carl just looks at him in amazement.

 “What?” Pete frowns.

 “You're seriously going to do this? I just dragged every shed of dignity you had through the dirt and you're still going to do this?”

 “You asked me to...” Pete says, confused. Carl rolls his eyes, his face immediately softened.

 “I was trying to get you to hit me, idiot.”

 Pete's mouth drops open.

 “Carl, I am not going to hit you.”

 Carl sighed. “You're not as easy to provoke as I thought you would be.”

 “You didn't mean any of that?”

 Carl just smirked at him. “Slut,” he whispered in his ear, grinning at him before grabbing his arm, pulling him back towards the school.

 “Has anyone every told you you're a complete head fuck?”

 “Yep,” Carl smiled, opening the door for Pete, gesturing for him to walk through first. Pete just shook his head and walked through, going up to the library, wondering how much emotional trauma Carl was intending on putting him through. Carl took his hand as they were walking up the stairs and Pete stared at him.

 “What? I don't want anyone else touching my things do I?”

 Pete just blinked and carried up the stairs, trying not to let his heart start skipping as he did. He knew people were looking, of course they were, but for some reason he didn't feel amazing like he thought he would. He just felt worried that the entire school was in on some joke he didn't know about.

 “Not nervous to be seen with me, are you, Peter?” Carl asked him, smiling, sensing his unease.

 “Are you kidding?”

 Carl just smirked back, pretending he didn't have a clue of the amount of people in their school that wanted to shag him. Carl dragged him to the back of the library, into one of the quiet study rooms at the back, deserted as usual.

 “Right, come on then, make me a genius.” Carl picked up Pete's bag off the floor, hunting in it for his copy of the text.

 “Erm...” Pete tried to think, trying to push what had happened so far that day out of his head. “Did you make a list of things that had happened?”

 “Did you grow a back bone?”

 “Shut up.” Pete folded his arms, leaning back on the sofa. Carl tucked his legs underneath him and put Pete's arm round him. Pete tried to keep his breathing even, he was starting to realise that he could take nothing Carl said or did seriously. He watched as Carl flicked through the book, rested his head on chest and started reading. He read out his lines, trying to ignore how it felt to have him this close...he absent-mindedly kissed him on the top of the head. Carl looked up at him and smiled innocently. Pete wondered if he was going to make it out of this alive.

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

Pete sat on his bed a few days later, messing with his phone, trying to get to sleep, thoughts of Carl flying round in his head and refusing him rest. He knew he couldn't trust anything he said, anything he did, and yet he felt a sickening feeling that he was falling for him. He liked him anyway for years and now he thought this was going to tip him over the edge into falling head over heels for him. He felt sick, knowing this was not going to end well. Carl had texted him a few days ago telling him he was ill, he was taking a few days off school but would come round and see him tomorrow night. Pete had no idea whether to believe him or not.

 He started to wonder about how bad Carl's English marks really were, whether they really had any chance of pulling them up.

                                                                                    *

 The next day in English he walked up to the front of the class, asking the teacher to see the marks folder. Carl wasn't there again today.

 “Oh, Peter, I don't think you need to be worrying about your average!” she said, laughing.

 “I know I just wanted to check...” Pete tried, wondering if he was ever going to get any good at lying.

 Luckily Carl's name was only a few places above his own, he read across his marks and frowned. Above his line of straight As Carl's was a line of B's and C's...he defiantly wasn't failing English. He frowned as he realised Carl had even taken the option to hand in a draft a few weeks ago and had got a predicted B for it.

 “What the matter?” the teacher asked him, seeing his face drop. Pete thought quickly.

 “Oh!” he said, pretending to laugh slightly at himself. “I was reading the line above, just had a minor panic.”

 “Honestly, Peter,” she said smiling at him, putting her hand on his arm. “Trust me, you have nothing to worry about.”

 He smiled and thanked her and walked out the class, feeling baffled. Why on earth would Carl have lied about to him about something like that? The only thing he could think of was that Carl must have wanted to have sex with him...though the idea was stupid. If he knew he fancied him, why hadn't he just come up to him and took him for his own? But for some reason he'd decided to act dumb, he must already know the text pretty much inside to be getting a B.

 He mused over it all day, it wasn't that Carl had lied to him, the last thing he'd learn to expect from him over the brief period they'd been...well whatever it was they were doing, was honesty. He just couldn't work it out. He was going to have to ask him about it.          

                                                                                    *

 He went home and immediately got changed, making sure Carl wasn't going to have that advantage over him again. He paused then, not sure what to do. If he was going to talk to Carl about this, there was little point in him getting their work out as it would probably be proved unnecessary. He walked downstairs, seeing his mother on her way out.

 “Where are you going?” He tried to remember what day it was, what she might be doing.

 “I'm going away for the weekend, I did tell you, dear, to see Cath?”

 Pete suddenly remembered and the suitcase sitting in the hall made sense.

 “Oh, yeah.”

 “I'll see you later dear,” she said, kissing him on the cheek. “No wild parties.” She smirked at him.

 He found it slightly mortifying that even his mother though the idea of him throwing a party was funny.

 “No wild parties,” he agreed, waving to his mother as she walked down the path. Shutting the door he suddenly had images flashing through his mind of Carl taking him in every room of his house...which was quite a lot of rooms. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. He was going to try and get some sense out of him. He went to the fridge to get a drink and realised his mum had left him two bottles of white wine chilling in the fridge. He jumped as he heard the door knock again.

 He walked to answer it, thinking he really should have stopped feeling this nervous by now.

 He opened it.

 “Hey,” Carl grinned at him, in his usual attire. “Where's your mum?” He nodded to her empty car parking space.

 “Oh, she's gone away for the weekend.”

 Pete smiled slightly as he saw Carl's eyebrows shoot up. “Has she now?”

 “Mmm...” He couldn't keep the smile off his lips.

 “Well I guess we can learn Hamlet all over the house then, can't we?”

 Pete just smiled, pulling the door back for Carl to walk in, trying to ignore the goosebumps making their way up his arm already. He noted that Carl really didn't look ill at all. He watched Carl take his shoes off and start looking round his house, Pete really did wonder where he got his confidence from. Then Pete frowned, something didn't seem quite right about Carl, he was grinning more, swaying slightly as he walked.

 “Oh wow...” he said, walking into his lounge and seeing the size of his tv and corner leather sofa. Pete followed him but then he walked straight back out into the kitchen, apparently intent on exploring. Pete watched as he ran his hands across the marble work surface, seemingly contemplating, then turned back to look at him.

 “Here,” he said to him, pointing to the work top. Pete frowned at him.

 “What?” 

 “Come and put your arse, here,” he said, smirking at him. Pete walked over to where was standing, he could feel his heart beating in his chest. He knew it had only been a few days but it felt like an eternity.

 He sat on the work top, trying not to think of how much he would have been screamed at for even thinking of sitting on the expensive surface. All thoughts of confronting Carl were disappearing swiftly out his mind.

 “Have you missed me?” Carl asked him. Up close Pete could see it in his face.

 “You're wasted...” He blinked at him.

 Carl just laughed. “Yeah, so?”

 Pete wasn't sure what to say, realising that this probably made him even more unpredictable than usual.

 “Do you disapprove, Peter? You gonna tell me off?” He abruptly undid his jeans and pulled them down, letting them clatter onto the tiled floor and started teasing him through his boxers.

 “No...” Pete just about managed to say. Carl just grinned at him.

 “I wish you would...” he purred at him, flicking his tongue out teasingly.

 “What?”

 “You know what?” Carl said, pulling back abruptly and leaving Peter squirming. “I think we should have a party.”

 Pete's eyes widened. “What?”

 “A party, you know, friends, drink, sex...”

 “Wreck the house?” Pete finished for him.

 “Oh my friends are nice...they won't wreck your pretty house...” he leant back into him again, arching his hips up against him, making Pete grit his teeth.

 “That's not what I've heard.”

 Carl smiled at him. “I'll tell you what. How about, if you throw a party, I'll fuck you.”

 Pete blinked and then narrowed his eyes.

 “So much for not being a whore...”

 “I'm not a whore, I want to fuck you anyway, I just might as well get something out of it...”

Pete despaired of him. “I thought you wanted me to do your English coursework?” He desperately wanted to confront him about it but just couldn't quite find the words. Carl just laughed.

 “Oh well, we'll just have to do it twice then won't we...”

 “Carl...” Pete knew that right now was probably not the time to have the conversation, not when Carl was off his face and he was all wound up. “I know you're lying.”

 “About what?” Carl said, not looking particularly phased. It made Pete wonder quite how much bullshit he'd been feeding him over the past few weeks.

 “The English thing. I looked at your marks, you're not failing.”

 Carl had the decency to look moderately panicked before he just smiled easily at him.

 “I told you I wasn't stupid.”

 “But...”

 “Shhh...” Carl whispered in his ear, kissing down his neck, lifting up his legs and wrapping them round him. Pete couldn't help but think that this was the wrong way round, him being at least half a foot taller than him...it didn't seem to faze Carl particularly though. He grabbed his arse and lifted him onto the work top. Pete squirmed and wrapped his legs tighter, knowing Carl was just doing it to give him a mockery of what he really wanted. He growled in Carl's ear; apparently he was learning all his tricks as he went along as Carl shivered slightly against him. He carried him into the living room and lay him down on one of his father's expensive rugs, lying flush on top of him, rolling his hips up against him.

 “Come on Pete, I promise I'm not lying, we'll throw a party, and then I'll fuck you as much as you like.”

 “Why do you want a party so badly?” Pete had the feeling he was being seriously used. Though he supposed he had been really all along depending on which bits of Carl's story he chose to believe.

 “Cos I want to show you off to all my friends, baby...”

 Pete really wasn't used to being sweet talked by Carl, he was used to roughness, biting and growling and certainly nothing as soft as this.

 “Come on, Peter, don't you want it?” He bit down on his neck again.  Pete closed his eyes; he knew it was stupid, he knew he was probably going to regret this for many months to come but having him this close it was just impossible to say no.

 “Fine,” he sighed, “whatever, but I've only got like two bottles of wine...”

 Carl was right, he was stupidly weak. Carl just grinned at him and sat back on his hips, pulling his phone out his pocket. Pete watched Carl repeatedly give his address out to his many different friends with a serious feeling of foreboding.

 “You look nervous, you need a drink.” Carl told him, stepping off him to go to the fridge. Pete groaned at the lack of contact.

 “Hey, I said I'd fuck you after, not before...”

 He brought the wine back and smirked at Pete. “How long can you hold your breath for?”

 “What?” Pete frowned, confused before Carl brought the bottle up to his mouth. “Carl, no, that is seriously expensive wine. I am not downing it.”

 “Wimp,” Carl taunted him. Pete rolled his eyes, fairly convinced that with his upbringing he could drink Carl under the table. Carl grinned as Pete opened his mouth, tipping the bottle up.

                                                                                    *

 Pete opened his eyes blearily, it took him a few minutes to realise where he was. The carpet was soft underneath his bare legs but the loud music was harsh on his ears. His head was spinning and he felt sick. He screwed up his eyes, trying to work out what the hell was going on. There was too much noise though, people shouting, laughing, singing...he opened his eyes. His living room was full of scantily clad teenagers he vaguely recognised from school, from his view on the floor he could see many pairs of heels and trainers, many empty bottles and glasses and the occasional person who, like him apparently, was passed out on the floor.

 He sat up slowly, trying to remember what had happened. He vaguely remembered Carl coming round to his house, fucked, wanted to throw a party, there was wine...he sort of remembered lots of people arriving. He was talking, laughing, feeling like a proper teenager, actually having a good time for once...Carl had had his arm round him, it had felt amazing, he'd felt jealous stares from all across the room. He could just about remember playing some sort of drinking game, involving a lot of whiskey, and now here he was on the floor.

 He brought himself to sit up slowly, willing the world to stop spinning so he could get his bearings. 

 He was encouraged greatly that he didn't throw up over his mum's favourite carpet. He knelt up gingerly. No one in the room really seemed to be looking at him, which was probably for the best. He spoke too soon, a boy, Johnny? One of Carl's mates anyway came up to him, grinning, slapping him the back, nearly sending him sprawling.

 “You all right, mate?”

Pete wondered at what point in the night they'd become mates. He looked at the clock, it was only 11pm...how much had he drank?

 “Yeah, yeah, you all right?” Oh god he was slurring. “Where's Carl?”

 Johnny gave him a knowing smirk.

 “He sent me to come and get you, though he said to try and get all your throwing up out the way first...”

 “Throwing up?”

 “You do look kind of green.”

 “I feel green,” Pete said, nodding. “I'm gonna go be sick. So where is he?”

 “In your room.”

 Pete heard himself laugh slightly. “Good times.” Oh god did he really just say that? Johnny just laughed at him.

 “See you in a bit, mate!”

 Pete just nodded, staggering his way to the bathroom. It smelt funny, and there were splashes of things he really didn't care to identify on the seat. He wiped it with some loo roll and lifted up the seat, no sooner had he than the entire contents of his stomach decided to empty itself. He cleared his throat after a couple of minutes of retching and looking down into the toilet, confused. He really hadn't recalled drinking anything blue. He took in a few gulps of air, feeling himself come round slightly. He got up, washed his hands and splashed his face in cold water. He caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror; he looked like hell.

 It then occurred to him that he wasn't wearing any trousers. He frowned. He made his way through the groups of people to his kitchen, deciding that since there was nothing he could do about there being so many people in his house, he might as well accept it for the moment. Several people waved and said hello to him; apparently he'd made a lot of friends in three hours.

 He got to the sink and poured himself a pint of water, taking it with some paracetamol and making his way upstairs. He walked into his room in a daze, wanting to brush his teeth, barely noticing that there were about 6 people already in his room. He figured Carl must be there somewhere and he'd sort out finding him when he'd sorted himself out a bit.

 He brushed his teeth and gulped down the water, feeling considerably better. He splashed his face and took a deep breath, deciding he was just about presentable enough to show himself to Carl again.

 He realised he must be feeling a lot better for brushing his teeth, as when he walked out of the bathroom back into his bedroom he realised not only were there seven people in his room, but they were all male, and all mostly naked. And one of them was Carl.

 “Darrrrling....” he called to him, holding out his hand. He was lying back on the bed, bottle of wine in one hand, cheeks looking positively rosy. He only had his boxers on; the sight was enough to make his head spin. He quickly flicked his eyes round the room, recognising a few of the people. Two of them were Carl's best mates, Tom, and Johnny who he'd spoken to downstairs. It wasn't so much disturbing Peter that they were all mostly naked, it was more the fact that they all seemed to be intending on having sex with each other in his room.

 He walked over to Carl, let him pull him down on the bed next to him. He was still looking around, slightly stunned. Johnny was on the floor lying on top of a blond boy and although Pete couldn't see his face, he was pretty sure they were having sex. He turned his head away quickly. Another couple were over by his desk, a brunet Pete didn't recognise was sprawled over it, the other was knelt down, sucking him off. Then there was another boy sitting at the opposite end of the bed to the one he and Carl were now occupying, who was looking at him curiously.

 “What...?” Pete went to ask Carl but Carl just laughed. As if acknowledging that there could really be no explanation for what was going on apart from the obvious.

 “I just thought I'd bring you up to where the party's at.” He grinned at him.

 “Party?”

 “Yeah.” Carl grinned at him. He was worrying Pete slightly, he was still obviously completely off his face.

 “What did I drink?” he asked, feeling his head start throbbing again.

 “Everything I told you to,” Carl said, shrugging. “And you were such a good boy...” he laughed to himself. “Oh, Peter, I hope you don't forget all this in the morning because we are going to have _so_ much fun...come on then...” he called to the other people in the room. Pete looked around but wasn't fast enough. Something was wrapped round his eyes.

 “Wait, Carl, no, I...”

 He just heard Carl chuckling at him. He felt his wrists being grabbed, pulled back against the bed, tied to it. His heart was racing; he wasn't stupid, they were clearly having some sort of...party as Carl had put it and Carl had clearly brought him up here as the new plaything. Maybe it was a good thing Carl had poured so much alcohol and god knows what else down his throat. He didn't have time to think about how he felt about this and whether he wanted to object, he was already tied to the bed and shamefully hard in his boxers.

 “Actually, take off the blindfold...I want to look at him....” Pete felt the material being pulled back and he blinked at the sudden barrage of light. He almost wished he hadn't opened his eyes. While he imagined Johnny and the other boy were still on the floor, the other three boys had come to stand around the bed. Carl was standing at the head of it, arms folded, clearly in charge.

 “Everyone, I'd like you to meet my new boyfriend.” Pete just stared at Carl, it was news to him as well as the others. Though saying that was just like the cocky bastard to think that he didn't actually have to bother with the formality of asking him out. He didn't say anything though, in this situation he really didn't dare. “This is Peter.”   
 They all just smiled knowingly at him in a way he didn't entirely trust.

 “So tonight would be a special night for Peter, and I thought we could make it extra special...however...rules...” Pete felt like interrupting him. Telling him he thought he told him he was better off without rules but he didn't. “Do whatever you want to him, but do not fuck him. Do it and I really will kick your head in....”  He swayed slightly and leant against his bed post, lighting up. It seriously worried Pete that this was the only thing he'd really felt like objecting to so far.

 “Don't smoke in my room....” Pete told him. Carl just laughed.

 “You gonna stop me? Okay, put it back on.”

 “What? Don't...” But the material was swiftly placed back over his eyes. He glared at Carl, knowing full well that he couldn't see him do it. It was quiet for a few moments, Pete's every sense was heightened, listening for the slightest movement. Carl broke the silence.

 “Well, go on then...”

 They didn't waste any time. His skin was tingling, at first it was just light touches, which with three pairs of hands was probably enough to take him half way there already. Then it was kisses, his neck, chest...lower. This was not fair in the slightest; he arched his hips up, he didn't care that it wasn't Carl. He was drunk and as Carl was clearly okay with this he really didn't see where the issue would be. It wasn't enough, it was too teasingly light, too gentle...

 He heard one of the boys laugh slightly at something one of the others whispered to him that Pete didn't catch.

 “You're cruel to him, Carl...” All contact moved away.

 “He loves it, don't you, Peter?” Pete jumped as he heard Carl's voice by his ear.

 He arched up towards him.

 “Now, now...” he felt Carl's hands trace lightly down his chest, he didn't know how but he knew they were Carl's. They felt very familiar somehow. He whimpered as he felt Carl's fingertips ghost over his cock, arched his hips up again.

 “Lie still, Peter.” Peter immediately complied; when Carl spoke to him like that he just couldn't help it.

 “Wow, he is obedient...” he heard one of the boys whisper.

 “He's a good boy...” he heard Carl purr in his ear, dragging his teeth down his neck. Pete shivered then felt Carl's hands on his cock again. He whimpered at the light contact, so far away from what he actually wanted. Then he felt Carl wrap something cold round the base of his cock.

 “What...?” Pete asked, though he could really probably guess.

 “It's leather and everything, Peter, and I know how much you like clinging to my leather jacket when you come...”

 Pete felt his cheeks flushing, he knew it was ridiculous considering that Carl had essentially laid him out for these boys to devour, but mentioning when they'd been together, alone, made him embarrassed somehow. Then Carl was gone.

 “Carry on...” he heard him say, he sounded much further away now.

 Pete felt goosebumps sweep over his skin before he felt the hands go back to exploring him. He really thought that since he'd been so good as to let these people into his house that they could at least go somewhere near his cock. He could feel a mouth on his neck, on his collar bone, on his nipple, biting...he squirmed.

 He felt fingertips going lower, teasing round his cock, in-between his legs, then finally giving him the contact he needed. He groaned as he felt a large hand wrap round his cock, pulling at it in long, rough strokes, as Carl had instructed. He felt his head drop back as he felt a mouth wrap round the tip of his cock, another lower, swirling round his balls, in-between his legs...then he felt rough fingertips brushing over his lips.

 “Open...”

 Pete opened his mouth, felt a cock pushing at his lips. He groaned, he didn't know why this was making it all so much hotter, but the idea of a complete stranger fucking his mouth was apparently seriously turning him on. He closed his eyes, relaxing his throat, welcoming the increasingly fast strokes into his mouth.

 “Oh he's good at that isn't he...”

He heard Carl chuckle slightly in response. “Learnt from the best, didn't he?”

Pete rolled his eyes behind his blindfold.

 “I want a go, move!” The cock was rapidly withdrawn from his mouth and replaced with an equally hard one. Pete, in the midst of his pleasure was trying to think, the feeling of mouths on his cock, balls, arse trying their best to interrupt. But there were three boys around the bed earlier, now there seemed to four, unless he was miscounting, and he was sure one of them wasn't Carl.

 He was jolted out of his thoughts as he felt a slicked finger slide inside him.

 “Fuck...” he swore, arching his mouth up to meet the rapidly thrusting cock. He heard the boy above him moan. Whoever was sucking him off was doing it expertly, drawing him so tantalisingly close, then slowing to the occasional teasing flick of tongue out at the head of his cock. He felt the fingers pushing harder, and the person above him thrusting harder into his mouth. He was moaning, he seemed to be being pushed forward.

 “Carl please, I wanna see...”

 “Two minutes...” Carl said curtly. The boy above him pulled off his blindfold, it was Johnny, grinning at him. He blinked as he realised there was someone behind Johnny, fucking him, pushing him harder into Pete's mouth. He couldn't see past him, couldn't see whoever was in between his legs. Johnny was moaning as the person behind him fucked him harder, the sight of it was enough to send him reeling, let alone to know that he was involved in his pleasure. Pete leant up, sucking harder, swirling his tongue round.

 “Jesus...” he heard Johnny swearing, “I wanna borrow you, Doherty.”

 “You'll be fucking lucky,” he heard Carl drawl from the other side of the bed. He still couldn't quite see him.

 “Put it back on.”

 “Carl...” Pete whined round Johnny's cock; he loved watching, even if all he could see was Johnny, apparently rising into a state of ecstasy.

 Carl walked into his view; he was hard, still smoking, stroking himself with his other hand. The sight made him whimper. He was so, so glad for whatever it was he had wrapped round his cock that was letting him last throughout all this...

 “You enjoying that, baby?”

 Pete just nodded, not really able to reply. Carl kissed him chastely on the forehead and wrapped the blindfold round his eyes. He could feel himself starting to tremble, pulling at his wrists, arching up to whoever it was that was currently sucking him off. Suddenly the mouth pulled away and Pete thought he'd done something wrong, before he felt the tight, slicked heat pushing itself down on his cock.

 He yelped, trying to adjust to the new sensation; his body was shaking now, it was too much, he desperate for release but held back by that bloody thing. He heard the boy that was currently riding his cock let out a moan and bucked his hips up in response; he could feel the boy's muscles tight around him, clenching round him cock, sending ripples of pleasure through him. He could still feel the fingers teasing his arse, occasionally slamming in him and making him moan. The boy started moving faster on his cock and Pete squirmed, desperate, frustrated at the leather still wrapped tight around his cock, holding him back.

 The fingers pushing into him were nowhere near enough, he needed more, he started fantasising the he was in Johnny's place, with Carl behind him, pushing into him, he groaned. He was just whimpering now, he could hear his voice contributing to the moans and gasps; he tried not to listen, it was only making him worse.

 “Carl...” he whined, he knew Carl was nowhere near him, but he also knew Carl was the only one that was going to be able to give permission.

 “Yeah?” Carl just replied casually, still apparently on the other side of the room. Pete just whimpered. He could almost hear Carl smirk at him.

 “Go on then boys, take your pleasures...”

 He felt them all moving faster above him, felt most prominently the boy moving on his cock change to an impossible to sustain pace. He cried out as he felt the boy coming round his cock, squeezing him tighter, felt the hot liquid hitting his stomach. Then he heard a boy cry out above him, felt Johnny shudder then come in his mouth, he found himself gulping it down eagerly, desperate for his turn. He reminded himself that he was better than them, because he was getting Carl. He felt his heart slow ever so slightly as he felt them get off him, then felt the familiar weight of Carl lying on top of him. He squirmed beneath him; Carl was apparently intent on just kissing him and grinding their hips together for the moment.

 Pete growled at him, slowly feeling like he was being driven insane.

 “Oi Peter, less of that, you know if you don't behave I won't give it you...”

 Pete just whined, not believing him anymore.

 He felt Carl slide down him wrap his mouth round him, slip what felt like...three? fingers inside him, happily assuming the other boys had got him plenty ready already.

 He pulled his head back.

 “What you think, should I fuck him? Should I take his virginity like this?”

 He heard laughter and a general notion of yes from Carl's friends; he'd forgot there were even other people in the room. It made him push harder back on Carl's hand knowing he was being watched, knowing that they could see Carl doing this to him, that he was truly his.

 “All right, beautiful, spread your legs.”

 He heard a general murmur of approval from the room. He could feel anticipation coursing through him as he felt Carl positioning himself in between his legs, he could feel his heart start to race again.

 “Carl, let me see you, please...”

 To his surprise Carl relented and the material from over his eyes. Seeing Carl in between his legs, smirking at him, blue eyes filled with lust, cock so hard for him made him wish he'd never asked. He saw Carl spread the lube over his cock, felt him place it in between his legs. He could feel himself practically shaking, he felt like he had wanted this for what felt like an eternity.

 “Relax,” Carl smiled at him. The idea that it might hurt had left Pete's mind long ago but he tried to relax as he was told. It left him completely unprepared as Carl pushed into him all at once, not bothering to be slow or gentle. Pete cried out, was trying to adjust to the feeling but Carl was having none of it, already setting a fast pace as he fucked him. He felt slight sparks of pain as Carl pushed in harder but tried to ignore them.

 “Slow down...” he whined at him, it wasn't hurting him that much, he just wanted to revel in it.  He'd been desperate for this for so long that he didn't want to be taken away this fast.

 “Carl doesn't really do slow...” He heard one of the other boys say and heard the rest of them laugh. Carl pushed into him even harder for his apparent insolence; Pete nearly screamed as he felt him slam into his prostate. He could hear the boys laughing at him slightly but god he didn't care.

 “He's such a good little whore...” he heard Carl saying above him, as if he was casually giving a lesson to his friends. “I'd like to see any of you take it like this...” He heard the boys jeer in response, but no one volunteered to take his place.

 As he pushed in deeper Pete could kind of see why, it felt like he was tearing him apart, but for some reason Pete could feel this making him harder, wanting more of it. It felt like Carl taking him, claiming him, and that was fine by him. He felt Carl bury himself balls deep inside him and screamed slightly.

 “Like that, baby?”

 “God, yeah...” Pete said, his eyes rolling back into his head. He'd fantasised about this, countless times, but he'd never imagined it being this good. That Carl would treat him this harshly, fuck him so ruthlessly, was beyond his wildest fantasies.

 “See this,” he heard Carl say to the other boys, “this is how you take it.”

He could hear Carl getting breathless and could feel himself getting close again. Carl repeatedly slamming hard into his prostate was doing nothing to help this. He could hear himself moaning, or screaming, he wasn't really sure where one ended and the other began.

 “Carl, you are brutal, the poor boy’s never going to be able to walk again.” One of the boy’s voices drifted into his ears. He felt dizzy, high, he felt himself getting drunk off this feeling. He heard Carl start moaning above him, felt his hand on his cock, but of course he still couldn't come.

 “Take it off, fuck, Carl, please...” Pete trailed off.

 “Do you think I should?” he asked his audience.

 “No way!” was the general response. Pete whined.

 “Aw sorry sunshine, but group majority rules.” Carl smiled down at him. God he was so fucking beautiful,; Pete stared at him, how had he ever convinced this gorgeous boy to fuck him? But he hadn't, had he? He'd chosen him, Pete couldn't imagine why. He closed his eyes, trying to stop himself from screaming, begging, anything else particularly embarrassing. However, Carl moving faster unzipped his lips.

 “Fuck, Carl, please...” he whimpered, repeating it like a mantra, like if he said it enough it would work. Carl eventually put his hand to the strap, much to the complaining of his friends.

 “Shut up, like any of you could take it for anywhere near this long,” he threw back at them. He tossed the strap to the side and leant forward, resting his forehead on Pete’s, blues eyes boring into brown. Pete gasped as he removed it, feeling the rush already, and then Carl wrapped his hand round his cock and he gasped as he came, shaking, closing his eyes away from Carl's intense gaze. He heard Carl let out a growl above him and then a moan as he came, collapsing forward onto Pete's chest. Pete shuddered underneath him, closing his eyes again, sure that nothing else in the world could possibly feel so good.

 Carl leant up, wresting his forearms on Pete's chest and looked round at his friends. Pete closed his eyes, now it was over he couldn't bear it. 

 “Right, fuck off, we're tired.”

 They grumbled at him but pulled on their clothes and walked out, happy to join the continuing party downstairs.

 He remained on his forearms, smiling down at him, moving a stray hair out of his face, leaning down to give him a light kiss on the lips. Pete realised as looked around the room that he seemed to have significantly sobered up, he couldn't imagine why.

 “God you're beautiful,” he told Carl. He knew Carl knew this already, but he felt the need to tell him. Carl kissed him again.

 “Beautiful and sticky. Shower?”

 “Yes,” Pete nodded, it was only when he moved that he felt the searing pain in his arse.

 “Fuck...” he winced.

 “Sorry,” Carl said, ruffling his hair and walking into the bathroom.

 “You don't sound sorry.” Pete was dizzy off sex, he barely knew what he was saying.

 “That's because you loved it, you massive slag.”

 “I'm the massive slag? Says the boy who apparently frequently has orgies with his best friends?”

 “You just had like a five way with no objection what so ever, you're the slag.” Carl told him.

 “You look like hell,” Pete said. It was true, Carl's skin was pasty, his eyes blood shot and he looked tired.

 “I though you said I was beautiful.”

 “Beautiful hell then...” Pete corrected himself.

 “I think you're still fucked...”

 “'s your fault you’re the one that fucked me.” Pete leant against the sink, the room was starting to spin slightly. Carl seemed to move in slow motion as he got in the shower, turning on the water and holding his hand out to him.

 “Come on, princess.”

 “Princess?” Pete asked but followed him in anyway. Carl stood behind him and wrapped his arms round him, holding him close. Pete felt his heart flutter as he leant back against him, the hot water soothing him. Carl picked up his shower gel off the floor and squirted some onto his hands, running the soap suds over Pete's chest and down his arms.

Pete felt his eyes closing.

 “Don't fall asleep yet, love.” Carl yawned in his ear, washing the rest of the soap out of his hair. “Come on then...”

 Pete grabbed two towels off the radiator and threw one to Carl.   
 “I'll be out in a sec, need the loo.”

 “'kay” Pete yawned, walking/stumbling to his bed. The sheets were soaked in various fluids. He winced and pulled the sheet off, just about managing to find another under his bed and made a half-hearted attempt to put it on. He got under the covers and wasn't entirely sure what side to lie on. Having never shared a bed with anyone before he didn't think he actually had a side yet. He decided on the left, nearest to his dressing table.

 It was only then when he stopped and rested for a moment that a thousand thoughts came rushing into his head. Was his house okay? Was his pride okay? What the hell just happened? And more prominently, did Carl call him his boyfriend?

 Carl walked back in the room and dropped his towel carelessly on Pete's floor.

 “Messy git,” Pete mumbled sleepily.

 “Fuck off,” Carl yawned. “Move over.”

 “What?”

 “I sleep on the left, move over.”

 “It's my bed!”

 Carl just folded his arms and huffed. Pete gave in and moved over, lifting the covers up for him. For a second he felt ridiculously awkward, Carl shuffled around a bit getting comfy and he had absolutely no idea what to do. Were they supposed to cuddle? Did guys not do cuddling? He was far too tired and still a bit drunk to be dealing with these kind of conundrums.   

 Luckily, Carl solved the problem for him. “Well come here then.”

 Pete shuffled over towards him, facing him.

 “Not that way,” Carl said, rolling his eyes. “Turn round.”

 Pete did and felt Carl's warm chest against his back. Carl curled himself round him, his hands tight on his chest and one leg thrown over his.

 “Night, Peter.” Carl kissed him on the back of the neck, giving him an extra squeeze.

 “Night,” Pete yawned, wondering how on earth he was going to get to sleep with all these thoughts buzzing round his head. Let alone with Carl wrapped round him, when he'd never attempted to even sleep in the same bed as someone else before.

 His muscles did feel tired though, his brain felt tired, he was tired of thinking...he closed his eyes and immediately fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

 Pete woke up and winced. His head was pounding, his stomach churning...he jumped out of bed, completely ignoring the boy next to him and ran into the bathroom, leaning over his toilet just in time. When the sickness didn't seem to be passing he gave up and rest his forehead on the toilet seat, closing his eyes and trying not to feel the acid coming up his throat. He wretched again, spitting the acid out of his mouth as quickly as he could.

 “You know sometimes, Doherty, you are just too fucking sexy...”

 Pete managed to raise his head from the toilet bowl to glare at Carl, immediately resenting how un-hungover he looked. He was completely naked, casually leaning against the door as if this was something that happened every weekend. Sure his hair looked a mess and he was a bit paler than usual but that was really it.

 He lurched again and spat into the bowl.

 “This is your fucking fault...” he managed to say, he was too hungover to want to please him anymore, he didn't care what he thought.

 “Me?” Carl said innocently.

 Pete could feel himself covered in cold sweat, and winced as he wretched again.

 “I fucking hate you. What did you make me drink?”

 Carl just laughed. “Like I can bloody remember.”

 Pete wrested his head back on the toilet. “How's my house?”

 “Dunno, haven't looked yet.”

 “I hate you a bit right now,” Pete told him, preferring to look at his sick than at that bloody boy at that moment.

 “It'll teach you a lesson.”

 “What?!” Pete exclaimed, finally looking up to look at him. Wondering if he'd really spent all night pouring god knows what down his throat just to lecture him about the perils of drinking.

 “Next time you feel like bending to my every whim, I want you to think about this, and stand up for yourself.”

 “You're a head fuck.”

 Carl just smiled at him and handed him a glass of water. Pete sat back on his heels and gingerly took a sip. When he managed to keep it down he took another, then let Carl help him up off the floor. It was only then he realised how cold he'd been, sitting naked on the cold tiles in his bathroom.

 “My head feels like it's gonna explode...” Pete moaned, walking past Carl to put his dressing gown on. He threw Carl his spare one absent-mindedly.

 “Ta.”

 Pete laughed slightly at how long his dressing gown was on him, then caught a sight of himself in the mirror and winced. His face was practically white and covered in a sheen of sweat, his eyes were blood shot and his lips cracked and dry.

 “Come on, stop admiring yourself and let’s go get you some painkillers...” Carl put his arm round his waist to pull him out the door. Pete stumbled slightly and ended up standing face to face with him, close enough to feel his breath on his chest, Carl's arm was still round his waist. He put his arms round him nervously, wondering how he was even daring to do something so bold. Carl smiled and did the same, resting his head on Pete's chest and holding him tight for a few minutes.

 “Come on...” Pete reluctantly let him go and walked out of his room, looking round and wincing at the mess just on the landing; the carpet didn't look stained though, thank god. He walked into the sitting room and groaned. The sofa had been moved up against the wall, pillows thrown on the floor, his mother's beloved rug was thrown in a heap in the corner, cds littered the floor, the cd player and the tv was still on, the light blue carpet was filthy and covered in empty bottle and glasses.

 Pete winced and walked through the various rooms downstairs, not finding too much damage anywhere. The kitchen was a mess, but nothing that couldn't be cleaned up. The bathrooms were disgusting, sick and piss and god knows what else on the floors, the whole place smelt horrendous. Pete walked over and opened the window, checking the time. He turned round and looked at Carl accusingly. He didn't seem particularly bothered though, just gave the room a glance and walked into the kitchen, putting on the kettle like it was his. Pete felt like hitting him with something, he didn't know how but somehow after everything last night the magic seemed to be broken. He still found him stupidly attractive, but he was starting to think that maybe he didn't deserve being worshipped for the rest of his life.

 He followed him into the kitchen and started cleaning up the cups; Carl just leaned against the counter casually.

 “Help me,” Pete told him. Carl just raised his eyebrows challengingly. “Help me or I'm going to call your mother and tell her what a massive gay slut you are...”

 Carl just smirked at him, not believing him for a second, but started helping him clean up all the same.

 “So...” Pete started, “you always have orgies with your friends?” His tongue seemed to have become unstuck, all the nervousness he usually felt round him seemed to have evaporated. He imagined he was feeling too rotten today to be in awe of anyone, even if it was Carl.

 Carl laughed. “Now and again.”

 Pete just blinked and carried on tidying up.

 “Do you remember all of it?” Carl asked him, pouring them a cup of tea each and running some water in the sink, dropping the nearest glasses into the soapy water.

 Pete closed his eyes and tried to think of any gaps in his memory. “I don't remember what happened after we started drinking that wine until I woke up on the floor. But yeah, then I remember everything.”

 Carl just threw him a smile. “Good, I'm glad.”

 Pete didn't say anything for a few minutes, just stood next to him, drying up the glasses Carl was washing, thinking this was all a bit too domesticated considering the sordidness of the night before.

 “Aren't you?” Carl asked him, smirking at him, knowing his answer already.

 “Yeah...” Pete said quietly.

 “Good.” Carl smiled at him.

 “You called me your boyfriend,” Pete said, remembering his heart leaping when he'd said it last night.

 Carl just smiled, not looking up from his soapy hands.

 “Well?” Pete prompted, stopping his drying up to look up at him.

 “Well I don't think there's any doubt who you belong to, is there?”

 Pete rolled his eyes at him avoiding the question.

 “And who do you belong to then?” Pete asked him eventually when it became clear he wasn't going to get an answer without more prompting.

 “I belong to the sea...” Carl said wistfully. Pete splashed him. He didn't mean to do it, it just sort of happened, he had flashbacks to the cupcake incident.

 “Oi!” Carl shouted, laughing and flicking some back at him.

 “I thought you liked water?”

 “I said I belonged to the sea, not that I liked being splashed with dirty washing up water. Especially when it was completely unprovoked.”

 “Unprovoked my arse...” Pete muttered at him, carrying on drying up.

 “You do have a very nice arse.”

 Pete rolled his eyes and moved on to wiping down the work surfaces and the cupboards, wondering just how long this was going to take. Carl followed his cleaning with a towel, polishing it to Pete's mother's usual perfection.

 “I surprised you even know how to clean...” Pete said, still finding himself blaming the state of the house, his head, his stomach, and his arse for that matter, on him.

 “What?” Carl raised his eyebrows, flicking the tea towel out at him. “Are you calling me a tramp?”

 “Yep,” Pete yawned, taking a gulp of his tea and putting it back down on the polished surface. “Didn't you like grow up in a caravan or something?”

 “I do not live in a caravan,” Carl laughed, not sounding in the least bit offended like Pete hoped he might do. It annoyed him that he had no ammunition against him what so ever. “I live in a council flat.”

 “Same fucking thing isn't it...” Pete tried.   
 “I know you do not mean a word of that, Doherty. You're not a snob.”

 “No, can't be, with a boyfriend like you...” Pete ventured.

 Carl smiled. “I guess not.”

 Pete just raised his eyebrows at him, still refusing to take him seriously. He grabbed a bin bag and walked into the lounge wincing at the state of it. When Carl didn't follow him in he raised he just figured he was being lazy and left him too it, too tired to bother arguing with him further. After a few minutes he began to wonder what he was doing in his kitchen when he walked in with two mugs of tea and held one out to him.

 “Sugar?”

 “No,” Pete said, shaking his head, smiling to himself slightly.

 “Didn't think so, come on and sit down, there's plenty of time there's only this room, the hall and the bathrooms to do.”

 Pete winced at the thought of the bathrooms, then frowned. “I have a lot more rooms than that in my house...”

 “Don't you remember?” Carl frowned at him. “We locked all the doors, we just let people in here, the kitchen the toilets and your room.”

 “Did we?”

 “You insisted.”

 “Clever me...” Pete mused, wondering how he'd found the courage to stand up to him last night.

 “No, come on, I just want to get it done in case she comes home early...”

 “I didn't think she was coming back till tomorrow?”

 “She's not but...I dunno something might happen to make her come home early...or my dad might appear out of nowhere...”  
 “You're parents divorced?” Carl asks casually.

 “Oh, no,” Pete said quickly, “he's in the army, works away a lot.”  
 “Oh,” Carl says, nodding and going to sit on the sofa.

 Pete raises his eyebrows at him.

 “What?”

 “You're meant to be helping me.”

 “I'm having a break...we just did the entire kitchen...”

 “Get up,” Pete sighs at him.

 Carl folds his arms. “Or you'll do what exactly?”  
 Pete put his hands on his hips. He is not in the mood for this, he doesn't care how fucking pretty he is, he is not going to clean around him like he's some kind of bloody maid. Carl raised his eyebrows at the stern look Pete's giving him, and cross his legs definitely, sipping on his tea casually. Pete puts his tea on the shelf and walks over to him, taking his tea off him and pulling him up by his shirt, he doesn't know where he's found this audacity...maybe the sound of Carl moaning in his ear last night, proving he needs this just as much...maybe.

 He's pulled Carl up close to him by his shirt, can feel the anger coming off him in waves that he'd even dare do such a thing. They're standing inches from each other glowering, Carl puts his hands up to Pete's wrists, trying to get him to let go.

 “Get off me, Doherty...”

 “Gonna make me?” Pete practically growls in his ear. He has no idea where that voice came from, probably from the same place as this new found confidence. Carl's eyes flash at him and he tries to push him back away from him but Pete's got a tight grip on the material.

 “Fucking let go...” he grabs the back of Pete's top, trying to get some leverage back.

 “No...” Pete growls, “I'm not going to fucking tidy up around you like you're some fucking princess...”

 “'s your fucking house...”

 “It was your idea!”

 “You could have said no, it's not my fault you're such a fucking slave to your cock is it...”

 Pete rolled his eyes.

 “Do you seriously not think I can't feel how fucking hard you are?”

 “I'm not bending to your every whim though am I?”

 Pete lets one hand release his grip on Carl's shirt and moves it down in between his legs, roughly grabbing his cock through his jeans; Carl shudders.

 “That's cheating.”

 “I thought you said there weren't any rules?”

 “Maybe I should make some.”

 “Maybe you should shut the fuck up and help me tidy?”

 “Make me,” Carl just held tighter onto the back of Pete's shirt, refusing to let go. Pete tries to turn round, trying to release Carl's grip. Their feet get tangled though and the end up in a heap on the floor, pushing each other back and forth. Eventually they stop, Pete lying panting on his back, still with his tight grip on Carl's shirt who's now straddling his hips. Exactly the same way all this started last night. Again, Pete could feel their erections brushing as Carl started to move his hips, smirking at him, thinking he'd won. Pete caught a glimpse of something in the corner of his eye but pretended not to see the hand cuffs that someone had left on his floor. He really didn't like to imagine the circumstances.

 He let Carl lean forward and kiss him and let go of his shirt, giving the impression of someone completely submitting, even moaning as Carl coaxed his mouth open and started doing seriously suggestive things with his tongue. He was apparently so intent on devouring his mouth that he didn't notice one of Pete's hands moving to the side...there was a slight clink as he picked them up but he moaned again to hide it, arching his hips up to meet his. It felt fucking good, and it was all he could do to stop himself just giving in and letting Carl fuck his brains out. He didn't though, he needed to teach this bloody boy a lesson or he was never going to stop being so insufferable.

 By the time Carl felt the cold metal round his wrists it was too late, and Pete took the moment it took Carl to realise what he'd done to flip him onto his back, slipping the cuffs under a leg of the sofa.

 “You absolute...” Carl started before Pete cut him off.

 “Shh love, you said you wanted to rest anyway. You can lie there and rest while I clear this mess up.”

 “What?!” Carl exclaimed, thinking that Pete restraining him like this at least meant they were going to have sex, even if would be on Pete's terms.

 “You really think I'm going to go down on you or something, as if that would punish you in any way?”  
 Pete carried on walking round the room, picking up things from off the floor, then he smiled to himself slightly and laughed to himself, walking out the room and running up to the stairs. Pete just grinned at him as he walked back in, carrying a disk in his hand. Carl watched him warily as he opened the dvd player.

 “It's a collection of my favourite porn...I'm going to clean the bathrooms, enjoy...”

 “Pete I can't even bloody see it I'm lying on my back.”

 “So you are...hmm....” he took the cuffs out but sat across his lap so he couldn't move far.

 “Sit up...”

 “Fuck off.”

 “Now,” he growled at him and pulled him up by his shirt, attaching him to the gold metal work that twirled round the ornate sofa. He picked up someone's discarded scarf of the floor.

 “Don't you even fucking...” Pete wrapped it round his head, reducing Carl's swearing to a string of muffles.

 “Much better. Right darling, I'm going to go tidy up, you sit here and rest. Okay princess?” He pressed play on the dvd and gave him a chaste kiss on his cheek. Carl just growled at him.

 Pete walked out the room and Carl groaned at the thought that he was actually going to do this to him. Like he would even have the fucking nerve...apparently he'd pushed him a little too far last night. Tying him up, letting his friends have his way with him....not that he'd objected but he imagined it would count as taking advantage of him somewhat. And the house was in a bit of a mess.

 He closed his eyes to shut out the porn but it wasn't working. Apparently this was a selection of clips from the middle of porn scenes, all the talking and vague attempt of plot disregarded, purely sex. He started to think he might have misjudged him slightly. All he could hear was moaning, moaning and gasping that was not helping in the least. He opened  his eyes reluctantly, seeing that all Pete's porn was apparently gay stuff, verging on a bit bondage considering...though that would explain why he liked it so bloody rough, why he seemed to like Carl leaving him barely able to stand up. And it would also explain why he was now handcuffed to his sofa. He sighed. He could hear Pete hoovering up downstairs. He couldn't close his eyes, he couldn't look away...it was hopeless. He gave in and watched it.

 He'd seen a lot of gay porn, given his friends, and his preferences, but he was never this unable to do anything about it. To not be able to touch himself in time with the rhythmic thrusts of the various men on the screen...he groaned slightly and gritted his teeth. He looked over to the clock in the room, it was half past eleven. Maybe he could have dealt with this if he wasn't hard already...if he'd already came this morning or something but right now...this was fucking torture. He arched his up into woefully empty air, twisted his wrists red raw on the sofa, all but bit through the scarf in his mouth, desperate for something, anything.

 He could hear Pete had moved onto the stairs, then the hall, then by the sounds of things the bathroom...god he was a bastard. He wasn't even kidding, he was going to make him wait till he'd tidied up the entire house. He groaned.

 At ten to twelve Pete walked back in, smirking at the state he was in.

 “What do you think of my taste in porn?” He asked as he finally came back. Carl mumbled something at him through the scarf, glaring at him.

“I don't think it's quite tidy in here yet, actually...” he said thoughtfully, picking up the last few things in the room before bringing the vac in and carefully vaccing every inch of carpet...apart from the part Carl was occupying of course. Though the vac was drowning out the noise he could still see the pictures on the screen, still wished just as hard that their pleasure was his own. He closed his eyes, planning exactly what he was going to do to him once he let him go.

 Pete eventually finished, then walked back over to straddle his lap, he leant down as Carl had done before, kissing his neck and grinding their hips together. He undid the buttons on his shirt, kissing his way down his chest. Carl squirmed, thinking Pete was enjoying this far too much. He was going to have to be much more careful of him in future.

 “I'm gonna take you right here, I think...” Pete mused to himself, undoing Carl's jeans, sliding them deliberately hard over his cock. Carl mumbled something at him. Pete smiled slightly and took off the scarf.

 “You are dreaming if you think I'm gonna let you fuck me...”

 “You're gonna be begging for it...”

 “Dream on,” Carl scoffed, rolling his eyes. Pete just smiled at him and moved down. He had loved the feel of Carl fucking him last night, but he knew if they always did it that way round he was never going to change the dynamic of their relationship. And while he could stand being some pretty boy's bitch for a few weeks, he didn't think he could do it much longer without punching him in the face. He smiled at Carl's cock pushing hard against his boxers, begging for something he was sure Carl never would.

 He pulled down his boxers slowly, and instead of starting with his hands, he slid his mouth all the way down his cock instead. Carl groaned loudly above him, clearly not expecting that. Pete sucked hard, taking Carl way too fast for his liking; he tended to like to thrust into Pete's mouth slowly at first, only speeding up at the end, making the most of it. With all the teasing beforehand Pete could feel him getting close already. He could hear Carl groaning because he knew it, thinking that Pete was going to let this be over all too fast just to humiliate him. But Pete pulled back at the last second, leaving him panting. Pete took a moment to survey him; he looked gorgeous. His hair thoroughly tousled from writhing against the sofa, his bottom lip red where he'd been biting it, a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead...but above all those angry blue eyes, glaring at him. For turning his own desires, his own body, against him.

 “Fuck, you're sexy...” Pete whispered in his ear. Carl felt himself squirm and cringed slightly. “You know,” Pete started, as if they were having a completely normal conservation, sitting back on top of Carl's thighs. “I found something else upstairs for you...”

 He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the leather strap and grinned at the look on Carl's face, wrapping it round his cock and pulling it tight.

 “What's the matter? Do you not like leather too?”

 Carl was apparently not speaking to him now as he just glowered at him, squirming under Pete's legs. Pete just grinned at him and slid back down, sucking his cock as fast as he was before, bringing Carl as close as he was going to get.

 Carl had closed his eyes, desperately trying to keep his mouth shut, but the whimpers still seemed to be making their way past his lips. This was unfair, and completely cruel. He knew he'd done similar to him last night, but that really wasn't the same. Pete had loved that, he'd squirmed and he'd screamed and he'd begged as he fucked him...Carl groaned at the memory.

 “Peter, get your arse on my cock right now...” he growled at him.

 Pete just raised his head. “I told you, not that way round today.” He lowered his head again, this time flicking his tongue out at his balls then lower whist he wrapped his hand round his cock to continue his rapid pace. He groaned as he felt Pete squirt some lube on his cock, accommodating to the sheer pace he was moving his hands. It tingled and Carl squirmed further, then he felt Pete's tongue moving teasingly slowly on his arse, slowly working its way inside. He should not have let Pete know that he liked that, that had clearly been a fatal mistake.

 He couldn't help it, he moaned as Pete started moving his tongue faster, in time with his hand...

 “Peterrrr....” it rolled off his tongue without his permission, he decided it really wasn't his fault. He'd just taught the bloody boy far too well. God but it wasn't enough...he knew it would never be with that fucking thing round his cock but he still felt himself wanting more. Teetering over an impossible edge. He felt Pete's fingers slide inside him and pushed back onto them, feeling those beautiful long fingers brushing teasingly over his prostate.

 “Fuck yes...” he was sure his brain and his mouth were no longer connected, his body had apparently completely betrayed him. “Oh god, harder, Pete, please...come on I'm sorry for being a prat.” Pete slammed his hand back into him and Carl groaned.

 “Not that you bloody deserve it...” he heard Pete saying under his breath. “Do you like that baby?” He asked him, mimicking Carl's usual lusty tones as he moved his hand faster, exactly where he wanted it. But it still wasn't enough. He growled in frustration, he still wanted more. And he knew exactly what that meant.

 “Say please...” Apparently Peter knew exactly what it meant too. Carl was not doing this. He closed his eyes, biting on his lips, determined no more embarrassment was going to come out of it. Pete pulled his fingers back at his refusal and started tracing his hard hot cock up and down his thigh, over his balls, teasingly down, coming to rest just an inch from his arse.

 “I'm gonna fucking kill you...” Carl groaned, arching his hips up. But Pete just moved his hand faster on his cock, turning his mind rapidly into mush.

 “Fine, fucking fuck me Peter if you want it so bad...”

 “That didn't sound like begging to me.”

 “Yeah well it's all you're gonna fucking get.”

 “Really?” Pete tugged on the strap slightly, making his cock even harder. Carl groaned in frustration.

 “Fuck me, Peter, please, for fucks sake...” he groaned, arching his head back.

 Pete grinned. “Now that wasn't so hard was it?”

 Carl didn't respond, just closed his eyes as he felt Pete brushing his cock against his arse, pushing slowly inside him. He was sure to keep his mouth glued shut. Pete apparently wasn't. He heard him cry out as he pushed into him, the tightness of his arse clenching desperately around his cock reducing him to near incoherence.

 “Fuck, Carlos, oh you feel so good...” he moaned as he started moving, slow at first, then Carl watched his eyes flutter shut and his mouth open slightly as he let himself start to properly enjoy it, to be selfish. He pushed all the way into him, Carl felt his balls slapping against his sensitive skin and squirmed further.

 “How do you like it, love? I know I'm being a twat but I still want you to scream...”

 “Untie me..”

 “I'm not feeling that obliging...”

 “Please, come on, if you're going to fuck me you might as well do it right...” this slight jibe to his abilities broke Pete's self-control and he unlocked the cuffs. He imagined Carl would flip him onto his back, to cruelly push into his arse dry just to teach him a lesson. To Pete's surprise he didn't, he just shrugged his shirt off and turned over onto his front on his hands and knees. Pete blinked then decided he really shouldn't be wasting time taking in this new information before Carl changed his mind.

 He pushed into him and heard Carl let out something similar to a mewl. Pete gasped as he seemed to be able to push himself even further like this.

 “Come on then, Peter, you want to prove you can fuck me properly go right ahead...”

 He knew he was deliberately provoking him, but he really didn't care. He grabbed onto his shoulders and moved as fast as his body demanded, every time pushing back harder, encouraged by the gasps and moans coming from beneath him. He grinned, going harder, sure that he could take it. He put his hands into his hair, pulling at it, pulling his head back, scraping his nails down his back.

Carl nearly screamed. Pete grinned and leaned down to bite on his shoulder, all the time moving at his impossibly fast pace. Carl was starting to have respect for his apparently newly found stamina.

 Carl was starting to lose his breath, could feel his head going funny.   
 “Pete, seriously, you're making me dizzy...”

 Pete just laughed and pushed back into him, deliberately slamming into his prostate.

 “Peter....please...” he whimpered. Pete just continued, getting himself higher. Carl could feel him starting to shudder, could hear him moaning louder. Then abruptly he moved his hand in between Carl's legs, undoing the strap, Carl felt his thrusts becoming erratic, and felt his hand in between his legs. It took barely more than a touch. Carl cried out, feeling Pete still pounding at his arse, dragging his orgasm out all the longer, then he felt Pete coming, shaking almost violently above him as he did, grabbing Carl's hips and pulling him back hard against him as he came.

 “Fuck yesss....” he moaned as he did, holding Carl's back up against him as he did, letting out soft moans as he let the aftershocks wash over him. He let Carl go and he practically fell down onto the floor, Pete managed to catch him.

 “Sorry...”

 “You fucking will be, Doherty.”

 “Oh shut up,” Pete said, rolling his eyes and pushing Carl onto his side, wrapping his arms round him, much to Carl's protesting. Even with his arms wrapped round him he refused to hold him back.

 “Come on, you enjoyed it.”

 “Not the fucking point.”

 “I tidied up while you just sat here on your arse watching porn, then I come and give you a practically blinding orgasm, and you're complaining?”

 “That was not how it happened,” Carl protested, “you tied me up, against my will...”  

 “You loved it.”

 “Did fucking not.”

 “You sounded like you did.”

 “Fuck off.”

 “You deserved it.”

 “Did fucking not.”

 “Did.” Pete kissed him on the neck and held him closer. He finally felt Carl holding him back and smiled in triumph.

 “Sleep with one eye open, Peter, you're stupid if you think I'm going to let you get away with that.”

 “Gonna punish me, Carl? Gonna tie me up and bring that studded belt of yours down on my arse? Cos I think I'd like that...”

 “I'd make you scream...”

 “I look forward to it.”

 “You'll be sorry.”

 “Will I?”

 “When you try and sit down for the next week, yeah,” Carl replied. “When the fuck did you get so confident?”  
 “Mainly when I buried myself balls deep in that fucking gorgeous arse of yours and heard you scream...”

 “What have I done to you, Doherty?” Carl sighed. Pete just smirked at him and pulled him up to sit on the sofa.

 “You've unleashed me, and I'm a fast learner.”

 “I guess I'll just have to leash you back up again then, won't I?”

 “I think I might need to rest first...”

 Carl just smiled slightly. “You might want to take that disc out of the dvd player before she comes home...”

 Pete smiled and walked over, taking it out and putting on the side.

 “Wait a sec...” he ran upstairs and covered Carl with his double duvet.

 “Do you want to watch something a little less sordid?”

 “Maybe only a little.” Carl seemed to have forgiven him, for the mean time.

 Pete put a film on and walked back to the sofa, daring to put his arm round him after he'd pulled the quilt around them.

 “Get off.”

 “You're my boyfriend, and I'm taller, than means I get to put my arm round you.”

 “Not my fault you're a lanky little bastard...”

 Pete slapped him lightly on the arm. “Fuck off. Midget.”

 “I am not a fucking midget you circus freak...”

 “What are you fucking five?”  
 Carl repeated it back to him in a mockingly high and silly voice, which Pete thought more than proved his point.

 “Come here.”

 “Don't you fucking order me around...”

 “Are you always going to be this petulant?”

 Carl just smirked at him, a slight sign of forgiveness. “Always.” He gave in though and let Pete put his arm round him and rested his head on his chest. By the end of the film he'd brought his legs up and curled himself round him, heavy breathing indicating he was probably asleep. It was a good idea really, Pete barely slept last night and what little he did was fitful. He let his head rest down on shoulder, feeling himself drifting off to sleep.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 “Peter!”

 

Pete sat bolt upright at the sound of his mother’s voice and the door slamming. He immediately pulled the quilt up and over him, then looked to his right and realised that Carl wasn’t there. He wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or hurt.

 

“Hi!” Pete shouted back, his eyes darting round the room to make sure there wasn’t any evidence of his weekend antics left in the room. He frowned, everything had gone; the handcuffs, his “home-made” dvd and all of Carl’s clothes. The only thing out of place was him, his duvet and the pile of his clothes which had been neatly tidied and placed by his feet. He blinked, trying to make some sense out of the situation.

He heard his mum go into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and quickly stood up and pulled on his clothes.

 

“Do you want some tea, dear?”

 

“Yes please!” He shouted back, hastily doing up his shirt and running a hand through his hair. He heard her humming to herself in the kitchen and wondered what the chances were of getting the duvet upstairs without her noticing. He wished he was one of those teenagers who regularly spent time on the couch with his duvet so his mum wouldn’t have known any different. He never did that though...his eyes came to rest on the double glass doors leading to the conservatory. It was 4pm and already dark outside, his mother would have no reason to go out there.

He picked it up and flung it through the doors, closed them and sat back on the sofa just as his mother came through the door holding two cups of tea.

 

“There you are love,” she said, smiling and placed it on the coffee table beside him. She gave him a brief hug and a kiss on the cheek. Pete prayed to god he didn’t still smell like sex.

 

“Have you had a nice weekend?” he asked her, picking his tea up to stop his nervous twitchy hands giving him away.

 

“Yes it was lovely,” she smiled, brushing a stray strand of brown hair out of her eyes, “it’s always nice to see her, and we got a lot of shopping done.”

 

“Good job I didn’t come then,” Pete replied.

 

“Yes.” She laughed slightly, “oh and I brought you something,” she said, getting up again and walking to her bag.

 

“You shouldn’t have!” He called after her.

 

“Don’t be daft, here you go,” she handed him a small piece of tissue paper. “I thought you’d like it.”

 

He unwrapped it curiously, his mum didn’t often buy him presents, usually he just got money. He smiled when he saw what it was, a silver broach with an old black and white picture of Oscar Wilde upon it.

 

“Where did you get it?”

 

“I spotted on a stall on the market.”

 

“Thank you.” Pete gave her another hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It’s beautiful.”

 

He didn’t have chance to check his phone until his mother had gone to bed. Thankfully it wasn’t too long, which meant that he was also able to take his quilt out of the conservatory and up into his bedroom. He pulled out his phone, he still hadn’t decided whether to be offended at Carl leaving without waking him or not. He supposed it had been a lot less trouble that he had left...and apparently cleaned up after them as well. He immediately opened the one from Carl.

 

_Hey, sorry I didn’t wake you, had to get back and thought you might want to sleep off the hangover. Your stuff’s under your bed x_

 

Pete found himself instantly believing and forgiving him - possibly foolishly - and reached under his bed and found the hand cuffs, dvds, lube and empty condom wrappers all inside. He breathed a sigh of relief.

He brushed his teeth and got into bed, trying to process what had happened that weekend. Between them they’d managed to remove most of the traces from the party and the one that followed from the house. As he lay back on his now clean sheets he wondered if it had really happened at all. The thought of what they’d...done - and what Carl had said to him after - and everything that had happened downstairs...add all that to the kiss that Carl had put on the end of his message and Pete found his heart and his stomach doing synchronised back flips.

He sat looking at his phone screen for about ten minutes before he gave up trying to think of something clever to say and decided to keep it simple.

 

_Thanks for clearing up, you coming in tomorrow? X_

 

He was just falling asleep when his phone buzzed in reply.

 

_Why, missing me already lover boy? X_

 

Pete rolled his eyes, wondering if Carl was ever going to stop playing games and winding him up, making him trip over his words and feel even more awkward than he usually did.

 

_Parts of me are x_

 

It was the only thing close to a witty reply he could think of.

 

_See you tomorrow ;) x_

 

He smiled slightly, turned off his phone and closed his eyes.

 

 

Pete took a deep breath as he walked from his mother’s car to the school gates. It had only occurred to him this morning that he might have slightly more to worry about than seeing Carl at school today. For example; half the school were at his party last night and had probably all seen him kissing Carl. Then there were those...apparently privileged few that had been in his bedroom. He winced slightly; he couldn’t even remember who they were. Johnny, he knew Johnny had been there. And Tom...he knew there’d been more but he wasn’t even sure he knew their names. He cringed.

 

“You all right, Doherty?” A voice called at him, he vaguely remembered the face from the party.

 

“Yeah, you?” he called back before the voice was lost down the corridor. He then had the very strange experience of walking to class with what seemed like half of the people in the corridors saying hello to him/nodding/waving. He was used to getting from a to b without so much as an acknowledging nod.

He managed to make it through the morning without seeing anyone who had been at their...exclusive party, not even Carl, much to his disappointment. Still, it was lunch now, and if he didn’t find him, then they had English afterwards. He was walking to the library up a deserted staircase when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

 

“Hey, Doherty!” He’d just about got used to this by now and turned around. He gulped when he saw it was Johnny.

 

“Hey,” he just about managed to call back, trying not to think about the last time he’d seen him... when he’d been desperately sucking him off...

 

“You all right?”

 

“Yeah, you?”

 

“I’m good. Surprised you can bloody walk.”

 

Pete laughed nervously, his eyes darting round the corridor but they were completely alone, Johnny walked up to him so they were standing on the same step.

 

“Listen, Pete...” he said, looking up at him with a smile Pete didn’t entirely trust. “I had fun, the other night, you know, if you ever wanted to...” he walked forward, backing Pete into the wall, his hands on Pete’s hips. “...repeat that, that would be really nice...”

 

“No, I...” Pete stuttered, trying to push Johnny back, but he was insistent. He was a lot more broad shouldered than Pete was and apparently a lot stronger.

 

“Come on Pete, it’s not like Carl would mind. It’s not like you’re his actual boyfriend, he doesn’t really have actual boyfriends you see, he’s not like that. You shouldn’t get too attached to him, I’ve seen him do this to people before...string them along like a puppy then knock them back...”

 

Johnny had his mouth pushed against his ear, his hips pushed flush against Pete’s. Pete was very aware that this did not feel right, did not feel like Carl, he could feel himself starting to panic.

 

“Seriously Johnny, I don’t want this...” he tried to push him back again but Johnny’s grip was too tight.

 

“Oh, I remember what he said... You like it rough don’t you, like playing hard to get?”

 

“No, Johnny, seriously I mean it, get off!”

 

“Or what..? You gonna get Carlos to come and get me, tell him what a little slut you’ve been? Think he’s going to believe I forced you? That you didn’t drop so willingly to your knees?”

 

“Johnny stop, get off!” 

He felt Johnny’s hands reaching in between them and closed his eyes, cringing, still trying to push him away.

 

“I think I preferred you when you weren’t talking...” He put his hand up to Pete’s throat, pushing down, making his breath come in sharp gasps. Pete’s eyes went wide and he suddenly had a very irrational feeling that he was about to die.

 

“Saying no, are you?” Johnny leered at him, gripping his hand tighter round Pete’s throat, “I can’t seem to hear you...”

 

Pete felt himself going dizzy; the smell of Johnny’s sweat mixed with his cheap aftershave was getting in his lungs, he couldn’t breathe.  Then he saw a flash of brown behind Johnny’s blond hair and suddenly Johnny was pulled off him and Pete felt himself drop to the floor, coughing. His head smacked off the concrete stairs and the world went black.

 

“Hey...hey...Pete can you hear me?” Pete tried to open his eyes and failed. It felt like someone had their hands over his eyes, holding them closed. He could feel someone’s coat under his head, someone’s hands on his shoulders. “It’s okay Pete, we’ve called an ambulance...”

 

He could hear someone shouting, could hear Carl going ballistic at someone, swearing.  Heard someone shouting at him, telling him to stop, that 'that was enough'...

 

“Boys! What on earth is going on here?! Tom, go and get another teacher. Carl, get off that boy!”

 

Pete managed to force his eyes open, he could see a blurry face leaning over him but looking to the side.

 

“Carl, stop!”

 

“Carl?” Pete mumbled.

He saw one of the teachers faces come into view.

 

“Peter? Peter can you hear me? Call an ambulance!”

 

“I’ve called one, they’re coming. Johnny attacked him...”

 

“What happened?” He heard another teacher arrive, panicking.

 

“Peter? Peter..?” Pete saw Carl’s face come into view.

 

“The other boy's unconscious!” He heard another teacher shout.

 

He felt Carl grip his hand and managed to grip it back, but couldn’t seem to make his mouth move.

 

“Can you hear me?”

 

Pete managed to give a small nod. Carl flung himself upon him, holding him tight. He closed his eyes again, hearing the distant sound of sirens as felt himself drift back into unconsciousness.

He woke up and winced at the shrill beeping in his ears and shifted on the uncomfortable hard surface beneath him, then opened his eyes slightly.

 

“Peter?”

 

Pete opened his eyes properly at his mother’s much higher voice.

 

“Mum?”

 

“Oh thank goodness, nurse! Nurse!”

 

Pete watched, dazed, as the nurse asked him questions, shining lights in his eyes and pushing buttons on the screen next to him.

 

“You’re going to be just fine.”

 

“Oh thank god...Peter!” she raised her voice at him. “You scared me half to death!”

 

“Wasn’t my fault that idiot tried to strangle me!”

He put his hands to his neck.

 

“It’s so bruised! Why did he attack you..? Peter, you never get into this sort of trouble...”

Was she really telling him off for getting beaten up? Well, less beaten up, more strangled.

 

“I don’t know...where’s Carl?”

 

“Who?” She frowned. “Oh, that boy who came round to help you study? I think he’s been taken to the police station, he attacked that other boy. Goodness knows what was going on.”

 

“He pulled the boy off me...was probably mad he tried to hurt me...”

 

“Well Peter it’s good you have people to stick up for you, but maybe someone... slightly less...volatile.”

Volatile. Pete liked that, he thought maybe his mother was a better judge of character than he was.  

 

“What happened to Johnny?”

 

“Who?”

 

“The guy that tried to strangle me...”

 

“Oh, he’s down here in a+e too...he’s black and blue. I really think you ought to put some thought into the people you hang round with Peter...”

 

“He’s not like that mum, honestly, he was just mad...”

 

“I mean I can understand wanting to stand up for your friends but he sounds like he was acting as if…”

 

“Pete!”

 

 Carl somehow managed to run over to him, despite the amount of obstacles in the emergency department. Pete realised that he’d never seen him look anywhere near worried before today.

 

“Oh, Peter, fuck, I thought...” he flung himself on top of him again, clearly not seeing his mother sitting next to him and kissed him hard; one hand twisted in his hair and one behind his back. He seemed not to notice that Pete wasn’t exactly kissing him back and was in fact, lying frozen underneath him, waiting for his mother to say something. After a few minutes Carl pulled back slightly and buried his head in his neck, giving Peter a perfect view of his mother’s shocked face.

 

“Um...Carl...” Pete whispered in his ear when he realised Carl seemed to have no intentions of moving off him any time soon.

 

“What?”

 

“My mother’s behind you.”

 

Carl nearly fell over backwards in his haste to move off him, which Pete thought was quite needless considering she’d seen everything already. He stood at the opposite side of the trolley to his mother that Peter was lying on, waiting for her to say something. When she didn’t he decided to break the silence.

 

“Mrs...Doherty...”

 

Pete looked at his mother’s blank face as she looked between them, kept expressionless, just as she was taught when she was younger - that she should always aim to appear polite in all sorts of situations. The only thing different that Pete could pick out was her slightly raised eyebrows as she digested the information. Then she looked at Carl and was about to say something when the nurse interrupted them.

 

“Sorry, can I just take your blood pressure please?”

 

Pete nodded and held out his arm and their cubicle went silent. Peter wondered if he’d ever felt more awkward in his life. His breath seemed to have caught in his chest as he waited for his mother’s reaction. He looked over at Carl - he was looking almost afraid. It amused him slightly that for all his bravado he was, apparently, completely terrified of his mother.

 

“Please, have a seat.” The nurse gestured to one of the spare chairs. Carl just nodded and sat down on the other side of him awkwardly.

 

“Thanks.”

 

After what seemed like an eternity, the nurse walked away again and they were left to the silence of their cubicle.

When Pete’s mother failed to say anything Carl took this as permission that he didn’t need to leg it out of the room immediately and turned his attention back to Peter.

 

 “How you feeling, love?”

 

Pete noticed his mother’s eyes flick up at the affectionate term and he tried not to cringe. He had a feeling his mother wouldn’t really say anything to him about it until Carl had left.

 

“I’m okay, my heads just a bit funny.”

 

“It’s all my fault...” Carl groaned. Pete definitely saw his mother look up at that. “Johnny’s an idiot, I never should have...”

 

“Don’t be stupid, you couldn’t have known he’d flip out like that.”

 

Carl just frowned and looked back down at his lap.

Pete was trying to deal with yet another side of Carl he’d not faced yet - he was always so reckless that Pete wasn’t aware he was actually capable of feeling any sense of responsibility... Let alone the feelings of guilt and worry that seemed to be wracking him at that present moment. He couldn’t stand him looking so sad, he wanted nothing more than to throw his arms round him and tell him it was fine, but he couldn’t really with his mother there. He knew he needed to deal with them both separately but couldn’t bring himself to ask one of them to leave.

 

“I never meant for you to get hurt...” he sighed.

 

“Hey, it’s okay, I’ll be fine!”

 

“If you weren’t I would have killed him.”

 

“You nearly did, from what I hear,” Pete’s mother had apparently decided to join in the conversation.

 

“Deserved it. No one touches my...friends.” Carl stopped himself just short of saying boyfriend.

 

 “You greet all your friends like you just greeted my son?”

 

Well, Pete thought, maybe she  _was_  going to confront him about it whilst Carl was there.

 

“Erm...”

 

Pete knew that now was probably his moment to dive in and save him from this awkward conversation, but all his words seemed to have died on his lips. He knew he could explain it to his mother if Carl wasn’t there…he really needed one of them to leave.

 

“Didn’t someone say you’d been arrested?” She looked at him over her glasses. Pete winced.

 

“Well, not really…they just wanted to talk to me about it…” he mumbled.

 

“And?”

 

“Oh, they let me go, cos I’m young and cos I was defending someone.”

 

“I see.” Pete noticed her polite regard turning into more of a glare. He squeezed Carl’s hand.

 

Carl wasn’t paying attention to his mother though, he seemed to have suddenly noticed the bruising around Pete’s throat.

“Can I look?”

 

“Sure…” Pete shrugged, letting Carl undo the top buttons of his shirt. He watched a dark look come over Carl’s face as he saw the extent of it.

 

“Carl.  _No_ ,” Pete said to him warningly. “He’s not worth it.”

 

“He shows his face in school again he’ll be dead…”

 

Pete closed his eyes, thinking that Carl  _really_  wasn’t making this look any better in front of his mother.

“Carl, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Pete tried to stress.

 

“You wouldn’t have been, if I hadn’t been walking past.”

 

“Yes but you were, and I’m fine, so forget it.”

 

Carl just glared at the floor.

“Are they letting you out of here any time soon?”

 

“Dunno, haven’t said yet…”

 

“Do you want me to stay with you?” Carl looked up at him with big concerned eyes.

 

Pete really wished his heart wouldn’t skip like that with his mother sitting right next to him. He cared. He actually fucking cared about him. Forget skipping, Pete’s heart was almost soaring out the fucking window. But at the same time, he couldn’t quite take the awkwardness of sitting here between his lover and his mother.

 

“Erm…I dunno, I’m kind of tired…”

 

Pete saw hurt flash in his eyes and gripped his hand tighter, trying to tell him a million things without his mother hearing. He didn’t seem to hear any of his silent messages though.

 

“Right. I’ll go,” he quickly looked away, dropped his hand and was up off his chair before Pete could think what to say.

 

“Carl, I didn’t mean it like… “

 

“No, it’s better if I go, you’re right…” he turned before Pete could grab hold of his arm and was half way across the emergency department before he could open his mouth again.

 

“Carl!” He didn’t turn round. “Ugh…god’s sake…” He rolled his eyes and went to pull off the various wires that had been attached to him.

 

“Don’t you dare!” His mother snapped at him.

 

Pete sighed - for a second he’d completely forgotten she was sitting there. He resigned himself to stay there for the time being and leant back against the trolley, looking up in vague interest at the lines and numbers making their way across the monitor above his head.

 

“He’s really not that bad, mum…” Pete started, still staring at the monitor, away from his mother’s face.

 

His mother just made a disbelieving noise.

Pete sighed and finally looked over at her.

 

“Okay, fine, he’s an idiot, he’s a bad influence and he’s generally a bit of a twat. He smokes and he drinks and god knows what else and I know he’s a boy…but I really like him…”

 

His mother’s face softened ever so slightly.

 

“I’d just like to clarify, it’s not the boy part that bothers me.”

Pete smiled weakly, he guessed that was a start.

“What did he mean, about it being his fault?” She narrowed her eyes at him.

 

Pete frowned. “I dunno…I guess cos Johnny was one of his group of friends who didn’t really know I existed until I started hanging round with him…It really wasn’t his fault. Johnny went mental.”

 

“No, I suppose not. It is, however, his fault for the state that boy's lying in wherever he may be…”

 

“He was just angry…”

 

“And guilty?”

 

“No! Well, maybe a bit, but he shouldn’t have been…What would you have done if you’d seen someone attacking me?”

 

“Called the police?”

Pete sighed. She was quiet for a long time.

“Though maybe if I’d had the upper body strength of your boy…friend,” she stumbled slightly over her words. “Maybe I would have done the same,” she sighed.

Pete was about to tell her that he wasn’t really sure if he was his boyfriend at all but reconsidered, thinking it wouldn’t really make it sound any better.

“Why on earth would anyone want to attack you anyway Peter…were you arguing or something?”

 

Pete felt his chest get tight at the memory. “I’d really rather not…”

 

“Sorry,” his mother said quickly. “Do you want me to get you some tea?”

 

“Yeah, please…” Pete nodded. He pulled out his phone and dialled Carl’s number. He didn’t answer. Pete tried three more times with no luck. He gave up and text him instead.

 

**_Carl, seriously, I didn’t want you to go I just needed to chat to my mum about stuff xx_ **

_It’s fine. Think I’ve caused you enough trouble. Xx_

**_What? Carl, this wasn’t your fault xx_ **

****

Carl didn’t reply and Pete felt his chest tighten. This really was the last fucking thing he needed.

 

**_Carl please xx_ **

_What?_

**_Talk to me xx_ **

_I am talking to you xx_

**_Come over tomorrow if I’m out? Xx_ **

_Probably shouldn’t Xx_

**_Why not? xx_ **

_Just…don’t think it’d be a great idea_

**_Why not?_ **

**_Carl!_ **

_Pete, I’m just not good for you, look where you’ve ended up._

**It’s not your fault!**

_Pete I just don’t think it’s good for you to see me anymore._

Pete thought he might be sick.

 

**_I don’t give a fuck what you think, I can decide for myself, thanks._ **

_Please Pete, I’m trying to do the right thing for you here_

**_I’m not a damn child! Stop being so fucking self righteous_ **

_I’m not being self righteous I’m just trying to do the right thing!_

**_I’ve just been through hell! Carl I need you right now_ **

_I’m the last thing you need_

**_You’re so fucking impossible sometimes_ **

_Exactly, find someone better_

**_I don’t want someone better, I want you!_ **

**_…You fucking idiot_ **

****

He looked up as his mother walked back over to him carrying two disposable cups of tea from the hospital café.

 

“Thanks,” he smiled at her and took his cup.

The nurse made her way back over to him.

 

“How long do you think he needs to stay in for?” His mother asked her.

 

“Just a few more hours I think, we'll just keep an eye on your breathing then we’ll send you home with some pain killers.”

 

“Thanks.”

She walked away and they sat there in silence for a few minutes.

 

“How was the party?”

Pete snapped his head up where he’d been sitting looking at his lap, trying not to check his phone when he was meant to be talking to his mum.

 

“What?”

 

She just gave him a slight smirk over her tea.

 

“Peter… _really_ …we have neighbours. Neighbours that I am friends with. How on earth did you think I wasn’t going to find out?”

 

“Um…” Pete blinked. He really hadn’t thought of that.

 

“I don’t mind, Peter, honestly... you put the house back together afterwards, which is quite a task all by yourself.”

 

“Carl helped me, a little.”

 

“He doesn’t look like the cleaning type.”

 

Pete laughed. “No…not really. Are you sure you’re not mad?”

 

She sighed. “Honestly Peter it’s only a house. I’m just glad you’re okay.”

 

Pete tried not to notice the pang of guilt he felt. He couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for her, at home, receiving a phone call from the school saying that he’d been attacked and taken into a+e.

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

“It’s okay Peter, really.”

 

Pete eventually gave in and checked his phone. Carl hadn’t replied. He really was going to strangle him.

He started at his own thoughts and put his hand subconsciously to his neck. It was quite sore.

 

**_Carl? You coming over tomorrow or what?_ **

_You should be resting_

**_I can hardly rest when you’re being like this_ **

_Like what?_

**_Like you don’t want this anymore_ **

_I don’t want it if it’s going to end up like this_

**_Will you at least come over tomorrow so we can talk about it properly?_ **

_We’re talking about it now_

**_Why don’t you want to see me?_ **

_Because it’ll make it harder if I see you_

**_You’ll see me at school_ **

_I’ve been suspended for what I did to Johnny. I lied earlier…I didn’t want your mum to think any worse of me…_

**_Fuck, Carl, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get you into trouble…_ **

_You didn’t, I did. And I’d do it again. Boy's lucky he’s not at the bottom of the fucking river._

**_Still…_ **

 

Carl didn’t reply to that, but Pete wasn’t quite so mad this time; it wasn’t like he’d actually asked him a question. He was being an idiot. Pete knew he still liked him - knew that he still wanted to see him - he was just beating himself up about him getting hurt. Which just proved even more how much he cared. He was sure that if he could just see him then he could make everything okay again.

They let him out of the hospital in the evening and his mother sent him straight to bed with a cup of tea and his pain killers. He didn’t bother to object, he did feel exhausted, physically, from what had happened; emotionally from everything that was going on with Carl. He hadn’t text him again, he knew what Carl was going to say and he didn’t want to hear it. How had everything gone so wrong..?

                                                                                                                *

When he woke up his headache was blinding, he could feel it throbbing where he’d hit it off the steps. Groaning, he reached out clumsily for the tablets on his bed side table, propping himself up on his elbow and taking them with the already stale water next to them, pulling a face at the taste.

He put his head back on the pillow, trying to sleep through the headache, but he was having no luck. Reluctantly he opened his eyes again and picked up his phone, the only message was from an unknown number.

 

**Hey, sorry to hear about what happened yesterday, how you feeling?**

Pete frowned.

_Who’s this?_

**It’s Tom…I was with Carl when he pulled Johnny off you.**

_Oh, right. Yeah, I’m okay, just got a blinding headache._

**_Not surprised, you hit the floor hard. You need anything mate, just give us a shout._ **

 

Pete guessed he must have drunkenly made friends with him at the party and given him his number, he seemed nice.

He tried calling Carl but he didn’t pick up.

 

_Carl I need to see you_

**_No you don’t_ **

Jesus Christ, he was going to kill him. He'd really thought that by today Carl’s ridiculous guilt might have worn off.

_Don’t you even care how I am?_

**_Don’t be like that_ **

 

There really wasn’t going to be any talking him round, not by text anyway. He was going to have to go round to his house, but he had no idea where he lived, just that it was somewhere on the council estate.

He stood up and his head started to spin, so he dropped back down on the bed and sighed. Maybe he was going to have to take this a bit slower. He tried again, pulling on his dressing gown and shuffling across the room in his slippers, balancing himself on the furniture as he went. He grabbed onto the hand rail and slowly made his way down stairs.

 

“Peter! What are you doing up?!”

 

“I…was hungry,” he lied. Damn it, he’d been hoping she’d gone out shopping. Not that she would when she knew he wasn’t well.

 

“Oh! You should have shouted. Go back up stairs I’ll make you something!”

 

“No, it’s okay, I don’t wanna lie in bed all day.”

 

“Oh, go and sit on the sofa then I’ll make you something, what do you want?”

 

“Erm…toast?”

 

“Scrambled eggs?”

 

Now that she’d started talking about food Pete was pretty hungry.

“Yeah, please.”

 

He sat down in front of the tv and checked his phone again, surprisingly Carl hadn’t text him.

 

“Here you go!” His mother brought him in his breakfast, along with a cup of tea and the rest of his pain killers.

 

“Thanks mum, you’re amazing.”

He ate it and took his pills and started to feel a lot better.

“I actually feel okay, I think I might go and get dressed…”

 

“If you think you’re going to see him today, you’ve got another thing coming.”

 

“But mum I feel fine!”

 

“Is that why it took you ten minutes to get down the stairs?”

 

Pete sighed.

“I need to see him!”

 

“You need to rest!”

 

He huffed and folded his arms.

“I can’t! Not until I’ve seen him, he won’t listen to me, I need to talk to him properly!”  Pete thought that this was probably the most emotion he’d ever genuinely expressed to his mother.

 

“Phone him then.”

 

“He’s not answering!” He knew how pathetic he sounded, rather reminiscent of hysterical teenage girl.

 

“Well maybe he’s not worth all the trouble then!”

 

“He is! He’s just being stupid…keeps saying it’s his fault and that I shouldn’t see him anymore cos he’ll just get me into more trouble…”

 

“Well maybe he has a point…”

 

“He doesn’t! He’s overreacting…”

 

“Peter, a boy tried to strangle you.”

 

“Yeah and it had nothing to do with him! Mum I need to see him!”

 

“No Peter. Not today. Maybe tomorrow.”

 

“You can’t tell me what to do!”

They both started at Pete raising his voice, something he’d never done to his mother before either. He closed his eyes and sighed.

“Sorry.”

 

His mother just looked at him warily.

“Peter…I know this seems like the end of the world, but I’m sure it can wait till tomorrow.”

 

Pete glared at her, stood up, turned round and went to go back upstairs.

“Shout me if you need anything.”

 

“Some compassion, maybe?” He shouted over his shoulder as he started up the stairs, very much resenting his inability to storm off.

He eventually made it back upstairs and got back into bed, taking some more of his pain killers and closing his eyes.

                                                                                                                *

“Peter…”

 

Pete started awake, finding the pain in his head a lot less. It was his mother.

 

“What?” he snapped at her. He knew it wasn’t her fault, that in her position he’d probably say the same thing, but that didn’t seem to be the point at the moment.

 

“It’s tomorrow, morning. You’ve been asleep for 24 hours…I thought I should wake you…” she turned and went back out his room.

 

Pete frowned and sat up, looking around in confusion. It did indeed seem to be morning, he checked his phone and realised she was right. 24 hours?

There was another text from Tom:

 

**_Have you heard off Carl? He’s not texting any of us back or answering his phone._ **

_He’s being an idiot he won’t answer the phone to me either._

**_Thought he might listen to you at least_ **

_Fat bloody chance…what’s his address?_

**_Um…43 Glen Close but you didn’t hear it from me…_ **

 

He pulled himself out of bed, the world was spinning a lot less this time. He went in the shower, pulled on his clothes and walked down stairs, finding a plate of scrambled egg on toast waiting for him on the counter.

 

“You’re not going out without having breakfast,” his mother chided him, walking into the kitchen after him. Pete went to reply but she cut him off.  “And you are not walking. I’m driving you and when you want to come back, you’re going to call me and I will bring you straight home.”

 

Pete thought about this and thought she was being more than reasonable, considering.

 

“Okay….thanks…” Pete felt incredibly awkward about shouting at her yesterday, but couldn’t quite find the words to apologise.

 

“You’re welcome,” there was still a slight bite in her voice still as she walked out the kitchen.

 

Pete sighed and picked up his toast thinking that less than three days ago he’d been standing by the sink with Carl as they joked and flicked water at each other. He went and sat in the living room with his mother, eating his toast and watching the house program she was currently watching.

When he was finished she turned it off.

 

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” she sighed, walking out of the door without looking at him and went to wait for him in the car. Pete slipped on his shoes, locked the door behind him and slid into the car beside her.

 

“I…really appreciate this mum.”

 

“You’d better do. What’s his address?”

 

Pete told her and she started the car, they spent the rest of the journey in silence. Pete tried to pretend as if he knew where they were going and that he’d been there before. She pulled over.

 

“You call me as soon as you want picking up. Don’t you dare walk home.”

 She was still staring straight ahead.

 

“Mum…I’m sorry.”

She just sighed.

“I’ll call you when I’m done.”

 

“Okay.”

 

He got out and shut the door, taking a deep breath before he walked up to the house. He could do this and he simply was not leaving until he’d talked Carl round. He knocked on the door.

A woman in her late forties answered the door. She looked at him warily.

 

“Can I help you?”

 

“Is Carl in?”

 

“Oh, yes, come in…CARL!” she yelled up the stairs. Pete followed her into the narrow hallway.

She rolled her eyes when he didn’t reply.

“Have you been here before, I don’t think I recognise you…”

 

“No, I’m Pete…I just came round to make sure he’s okay - he’s not answering his phone.”

 

“Won’t even come out his bloody room. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. Follow me.”

They got halfway up the stairs.

“Wait, aren’t you that boy that got attacked…”

 

“Yeah…” he said awkwardly.

 

“Oh you poor thing!”

Pete noticed her looking at the bruising on his neck with wide eyes before she turned and carried on up the stairs. He could hear Carl’s music blaring before they’d even set foot on the landing. His mother rolled her eyes again.

“Bloody noisy creature…CARL!” she yelled, hammering on his door. There was still no reply.

“Oh, just go in,” she said, shaking her head in despair and walking back down the stairs. Pete gulped and pushed open the door.

 

His eyes widened at the sight in front of him and it suddenly became very apparent why Carl hadn’t answered when his mother had called. He quickly shut the door behind him just incase she came back up the stairs.

 Carl was laid on his bed on his back, topless, jeans round his ankles and his eyes tightly closed as he got himself off. His hair was a dark mess on the pillow as he tossed his head back and forth; his cheeks were flushed and there was a slight sheen on his chest as his muscles tensed, his hips arching up desperately to meet his hand.

 

“Carl…” Pete thought he really should say something instead of standing there gawping.

 

Carl couldn’t hear him over his music. Pete was incredibly tempted to stand back and watch, but didn’t think it would go down well when Carl finally opened his eyes.

He walked over to his cd player and pressed pause, then watched in amusement as Carl’s eyes flew open in horror, immediately relaxing when he saw it was Pete and not his mother.

 

“Jesus Christ, Peter…” he panted, “scared the fucking crap out of me…”

 

Pete laughed and bit his lip, happy to pretend nothing was wrong for the moment.

 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to…would you like a hand with that?” Pete smirked at him, apparently having all his confidence back from the other morning now that Carl was here in front of him.

 

“No…Peter…I meant what I said I…” Carl stuttered slightly, clearly finding it hard to concentrate when he was so close.

 

“No?” Pete raised his eyebrows at him in pretend shock; he knew he wanted this - for once he knew exactly what was going on in Carl’s head. He pulled off his shirt and kicked off his jeans, tilting his head at Carl and smiling, waiting for him to give in.

He knelt down on the bed, resting his elbows either side of Carl’s hips, lowering his head down, just an inch shy of his throbbing cock.

 

“Gonna stop me?”

 

Carl had a pained expression on his face, obviously torn between pushing Peter away and pushing his head down. But Pete knew he wouldn’t say no.

He flicked his tongue out and Carl gasped.

 

“Peter…” Carl started. Pete slid his mouth down his cock before he had chance to finish his sentence.

“Fuuuccckk….”

 

Pete inwardly smiled to himself, sucking him off the way he knew he liked it. Carl’s hands found their way into his hair, twisting and pushing him down harder.

Eventually Peter pulled back, wrapping his hand round his cock for the meantime.

 

“Where’s your lube?”

 

“I…Peter…we shouldn’t…” Carl panted.

 

Peter rolled his eyes at him, thinking it was quite impressive that he was being so persistent in this state.

 

“Come on…”

He lowered his head in between his legs and started flicking his tongue out, teasing him, not giving him enough contact to satisfy.

 

“Peterrr…” he growled at him.

 

“So you do want this then?”

 

Carl groaned. “Fine, fine, it’s here…” he reached under the bed and grabbed it, tossing it over to him.

 

“Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

Carl just glared at him.

“Ohh…” he moaned as Peter slid a finger inside him, sliding his lips back down his cock. “Ohh Peter…”

 

Pete indulged him for a while, thinking that he might give Carl a head start in the future, he was definitely a lot more fun like this.

“Oh fuck there…” he pushed down on Peter’s hand, groaning as he did.

Pete just sat back and admired him for a while before his body started making it's own demands of him.

He pulled back completely to take his boxers off and Carl groaned at him.

“Get back here.”

 

Pete grinned at him and crawled over to lay on top of him, kissing him hard. Carl moaned into his kisses, wondering why Peter insisted on interrupting their sex for a kissing session. He wrapped his legs round his waist, hoping to make his point.

Peter just writhed on top of him, grinding his hips down against Carl’s.

 

“Peter, would you please just bloody fuck me…”

 

“Always in such a rush…” Pete tutted…as if he didn’t know that Carl was already pretty close when he’d walked in the room and was now painfully close to what he wanted.

Carl rolled his eyes and ran his nails down his back.

 

“ _Now_ , Doherty…”

 

Carl’s words had their desired effect and Pete shivered, grabbing Carl’s hips and pushing inside him, moaning as he did. He’d just started to fuck him when Carl seemed to change his mind.

 

“No, not like this…”

Pete blinked, confused, before Carl flipped him underneath him, pushing himself down on his cock and grinning to himself.

“’s better.”

 

Peter’s eyes rolled back into his head as Carl started to fuck himself on his cock, grinning above him, hair bouncing in his eyes as he moved…Peter thought the sight of Carl laid out on his bed fucking himself had been pretty good... but this was even better.

 

“Oh…god…” Pete moaned as Carl grabbed his shoulders and moved faster, still grinning to himself. Pete watched, entranced, as Carl’s breath started to hitch, then groaned in objection as Carl abruptly pulled back and pulled him up off the bed.

 

“No…no…I want to be inside you instead…”

 

“Jesus you’re indecisive today…” he muttered, as Carl turned him round and pushed him roughly up against his bedroom door, grabbing his lube and pushing his fingers inside him. Pete was so turned on already he nearly squealed. He heard Carl’s confident laugh in his ear before he felt him start kissing and biting down upon his neck.

“Fuck…fuck…” he was shaking slightly against the door already and imagined  that he’d have slid down it already, if it weren’t for Carl’s tight grip on his hips. “Carlos…Carlos…please…”

 

Carl moved his mouth up to his ear.

“My poor baby…” he drawled, laughing slightly, “do you want my cock?”

 

 He flicked his tongue out at his ear.

Peter nearly collapsed in his arms.

 

“Carl…Carl…” It seemed to be the only thing he could vocalise anymore. He cried out loud as he pushed all the way inside him, groaning in his ear as he did.

 

“Yesss Peterrrr….”

 

Pete hoped to god this wasn’t going to last much longer as he could feel his legs buckling. Luckily for him he could feel Carl’s strokes becoming erratic already, but was still somehow managing to hit exactly where he wanted it. Carl was biting and sucking on his neck and Pete could hear himself whimpering - even beyond begging now - trembling in his arms.

 

“Fuck…yes…yes….”

 

Pete sighed heavily in relief as he felt Carl coming inside him just before he felt Carl’s hand on his cock.

“Ohhh god….Carl…Carl…” he gasped as he came all over Carl’s door.

 

He sighed contentedly as Carl wrapped his arms round his waist, nuzzling his head into his neck as Pete rested his forehead against the door. Eventually he realised how very sticky he was and stepped back. Carl pulled away from him and lay back on his bed, throwing him his tissues, frowning as he remembered that he’d initially been trying not to let this happen.

Pete cleaned himself up and lay next to him on the bed, not bothering to wait for an invitation. He rested his head on Carl’s chest, trying to get his thoughts together. 

They lay there for a while, until Pete remembered why he'd come round here and that he was actually still quite annoyed.

He noticed Carl’s phone lying on the other side of the bed and reached over him to pick it up. He clicked a few buttons on it.

 

“So it  _is_  working!” He said sarcastically.

 

Carl winced. “Peter I…”

 

“Shut it, I’ve had enough of your crap, I don’t wanna hear it.”

 

He dropped Carl’s phone back on the bed and wrapped himself round him again. Carl reluctantly kissed him on the top of the head, putting his arm round his shoulders.

 

“How you feeling?”

 

Pete looked up at him.

“I’d feel a lot better if you’d actually answer my calls and not talk to me like I’m some idiot five year old who doesn’t know what he wants,” Pete snapped at him. Apparently no amount of amazing sex was enough cancel out his annoyance.

 

“That wasn’t exactly what I meant.”

 

“My heads hurting less, my necks sore, but I’ll live.”

Carl squeezed him tighter.

“I mean it Carl, I’m not just going to let you brush me aside just cos some idiot won’t take no for an answer…”

 

“What?” Carl frowned. “What do you mean?”

 

“Johnny…”

 

“But…I thought he just attacked you…”

 

“No.”

 

“He was trying to…?”

 

“Yeah, so I said no, so…he stopped me saying no.”

 

“Fucking…” Pete felt Carl’s arm tense around him.

 

“No Carl. That’s not how you’re going to make this better. You breaking up with me isn’t going to send us back in time and change what happened. You being here - and holding me -  _that_  is going to make this better.  _This_  is what I need.”

 

Carl sighed and relaxed against him.

 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt…”

 

“You not talking to me. That hurts. This...” he gestured to the way Carl was holding him, “...this doesn’t hurt.”

 

Carl looked down guilty, “I’m sorry, I was just trying to…”

 

“I know what you were trying to do- and I know why - but that’s not what I need right now.”

 

Carl was quiet for a while, absentmindedly stroking Pete’s hair and holding him tight.

“Sorry,” he said again.

 

“It’s okay.”

 

“How do you know my address?” Carl said after a few minutes pause.

 

“Tom gave it me…wait…I wasn’t supposed to tell you that.”

 

Carl laughed slightly. “Since when does Tom have your number?”

 

“Dunno, I must have given it to him at the party. He texted me earlier, making sure I was okay. Not even sure which one he is…”

 

“He’d be the one that was having such fun bouncing up and down on your cock the other night…”

 

“Oh.” Pete felt the blood rushing to his cheeks and cursed himself. He really thought he’d been getting the hang of having the upper hand in their conversations. “Right.”

 

Carl laughed again. “He’s not after you is he?”

 

“Why, jealous?”

 

“Never,” Carl said, smirking down at him. 

 

“Hmm…no…he was worried about you…”

 

Carl sighed. “I should probably call him.”

 

“Probably.”

 

They were quiet for a while, Peter was quite happy to lay with his head on his chest, letting Carl stroke his hair. He could feel himself getting sleepy again and was almost drifting off when Carl brought him back to earth again.

 

“Peter…I think I realised something…You know when you were lying on the floor unconscious..? I don’t think I’ve ever felt so terrified in my life…”

 

Pete opened his eyes, raising his eyebrows and smiling at him, waiting for him to carry on.

 

“I mean…I just think I’ve got rather attached to you.”

 

“That’s the weirdest way of saying 'I love you' I’ve ever heard…”

Carl flushed and Pete grinned at him, he knew he’d been right.

“Ha.”

 

“Oh shut up.” Carl rolled his eyes. Peter just continued to grin at him.

“Just how many of those pain killers have you taken Peter..?”

 

“Dunno…a few…Are you gonna say it properly or not?”

 

Carl looked at the ceiling. “I love you.”

 

“And I’m sure the ceiling loves you too.”

 

“You’re such a dick.”

 

“I learnt from the best.”

 

Carl rolled his eyes and looked back down to him, looking into his eyes properly, running his finger down his cheek.

Holy shit. He was actually going to do it. Peter’s breath caught in his throat.

 

“I love you Peter.”

 

Pete had forgotten how to talk. Carl raised his eyebrows at his lack of response, smirking slightly at him.

“Um…”

 

Carl burst out laughing.

“You’re bloody hopeless at this…”

 

“No, wait..! Stop laughing, I love you too…I do…” Pete had caught Carl’s laughter though... He had really imagined this happening differently in his head. Carl just grinned at him.

 

“So your mum like hates me now right?”

 

“No…well…maybe a bit. She drove me round here though, so she can’t hate you that much. She wouldn’t let me out the house yesterday though…”

 

“I wouldn’t have done either…my poor boy…” Carl frowned, finding the bump on Peter’s head under his fingers. He kissed him on the head again.

 

“How long are you suspended for?”

 

“Like a week or something…I dunno…” Carl shrugged.

 

“At least you don’t have to worry about your English course work…”

 

Carl laughed, having completely forgotten how this all started already.

 

“I guess there is that…”

 


End file.
